


Westerosi's Least Desirable Bachelor

by Foxyhunter99



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon through 8.03 because let's face it the rest of the season sucked, Dany's coin flipped to the good side, F/M, Sansa is bad at feelings, Slow Burn, The 7 kingdoms didn't become 6 because I have OPINIONS on that, oh look i found the smut, so much angsty mutual pining and I love it so much, terrible bawdy song now included
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 75,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19204309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxyhunter99/pseuds/Foxyhunter99
Summary: Queen Daenerys wishes for her Hand to remarry.  And who would be the best person to help him find a new bride?  Why his former wife Sansa Stark of course!  However, there is the matter of some unresolved feelings between the two making this task far more complicated.





	1. A Queen's request

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! See the tags above. This takes place about 2 or 3 years after season 8 with Jon and Dany on the throne. I scrapped everything in season 8 after the long night...so just pretend half the season didn't happen. I sleep better that way.

“I think that it is high time you got married Tyrion”  Queen Daenerys told her Hand out of nowhere as they finished breaking their fast together as they did almost every morning with Jon (sorry King Aegon ) away from King’s Landing attending to the latest crisis in the seven kingdoms.  The Queen feasted on a large plate of fruit, enjoying every morsel. She had craved fruit during her last pregnancy in the dead of winter (given the circumstances perhaps DEAD of winter was a bad descriptor but accurate nonetheless) but had to do without along with everyone else.  So during this spring pregnancy, she savored every bit. Tyrion of course preferred his fruit fermented in liquid form, which caused his throat and nose to burn when he choked upon his wine after hearing the Queen’s comment.

 

“And why do you think that is your Grace?”  Tyrion asked. “My brother and Ser Brienne have already produced two children and the way they can’t keep their hands off each other I imagine the West well be entirely populated with giant blonde Lannisters for generations.”  He smiled thinking of his niece and new baby nephew. No they certainly didn’t need his seed to carry on the Lannister name (nor would he want a child to suffer as he has). A small part of him did grieve however, he secretly would have loved to have been a father.  

 

“You live like a bachelor, you take care of yourself--poorly--like a bachelor. You drink too much, eat too little, and work yourself, despite my assurances you shouldn’t, into the ground.   You won’t keep an assistant for more than a moonturn or two…” .

 

“Well, stop sending me insufferable fools.”  Tyrion shot back interrupting her. This had been an argument they had had on more than one occasion.  None of his assistants had ever been as good as his former squire Podrick, Ser Podrick now, who had taken over his Lady’s oath upon her marriage to be sworn sword for House Stark and lived in Winterfell now...with her.  Sansa Stark, Wardeness of the North, with hair of fire and eyes of ice. Some say the ice was in her veins too, but he knew better and found himself missing her company far more than a foolish old dwarf probably should. He took another long drink of his wine trying to extinguish the feelings that always accompanied the thoughts of his young, beautiful, and oh so tall former wife.

 

The Queen let out an exasperated sigh.  “They were all fine young men. You are the insufferable one Lord Hand.”  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The Queen was only in her fifth moonturn but nearly as large as she had been with Prince Jorah at the end.  Rumors were beginning to circulate that she was carrying twins and Tyrion was inclined to believe it but did not feel it his place to ask. “I think,”  she continued, “that a wife might be able to help curb some of your more self destructive habits.” She sighed giving him a gentle look she rarely used as she patted his hand  in affection across the table. “You are also my friend above all else Tyrion and I want you to be happy. Happy as I am with Jon. I want you to have a partner to share your life with.”

 

Tyrion sighed and wouldn’t meet her eyes.  He desperately wanted that too in the recesses of his heart but knew that love was not meant for an imp like him.  He had loved Tysha--but that had all been a lie. He had loved Shae--but she had betrayed him in the end so he doubted that she had ever actually loved him.  And his last wife Sansa of course had never loved him, had been forced to marry him. At Winterfell, during the war against the dead they had become friends again and that was the best he could hope for from a woman like Sansa Stark.  Although, there has been some moments in the crypts during the long night where he had dared to hope and in fact had deluded himself into seeing something in her eyes that he felt too and had felt for years. All too quickly in his head, those soft, intimate looks in the crypts turned into the revulsion in her eyes that she had shown him on their wedding night.  At last he spoke “I will not allow you to force a woman to marry me against her will. Never again.”

 

A scowl crossed her face.  “Tyrion, please look at me.”  He at last raised his head to meet her eyes.  “I hope you know me better than that.” she said softly as the morning light bathed her silver hair and he found her the spitting image of the Mother herself.  ‘Mhysa’ is what her people in Essos called her. She truly was mother to all, not just dragons. It had been Jon’s love and the child she bore him that had truly lifted her to the Queen she was always meant to be and turned her from the Queen of Fire and Blood he witnessed when she had executed the Tarleys.  He shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if her Targaryen coin had flipped on the side of death and madness.

 

“I know that you are much prettier than my father.”  he japed, “and a million times kinder.”

 

“Kindness is a trait I learned much of from you, my Hand.”  She paused before continuing, picking at her plate. “I will never force a marriage upon you or anybody.  That is one of the primary reasons I will be holding the Spring Summit and Gala here at King’s Landing for the next six weeks.  So that the eligible Lords and Ladies of both major and minor houses can meet in person and get to know each other rather than being forced blindly into arranged marriages.  All I am asking of you is to give the possibility of happiness a chance. There are going to be a great deal more women than men looking for spouses after years of war. You are Hand to the Queen after all making you one of Westerosi’s most eligible bachelors.  I think you will be surprised at the amount of women that would happily become your bride.”

 

Yes, he thought, but not for me but for the power I may have.  It made his heart drop. Voicing his fears he said “I will do as you wish, but I fear that some of these women will have ulterior motives.  My history with women has shown that I’m not the best judge of character in matters such as these.”

 

“Of course Varys will have his little birds to sort out some of the bad apples, as for the rest I have recruited help.”  she said with a wicked little smile as she popped a grape in her mouth. It was becoming clear to him that this plan had been in the works for weeks now.

 

“Help?”  he said. This was getting worse by the second.

 

“Well of course your brother and goodsister are coming in hopes to make a match for your newly legitimized cousin Joy.  I understand she is as beautiful as your sister was.” Daenerys said.

 

“She is also clever, and shrewd much like my father.  But compassionate and gentle like my mother was always reported to be.” Tyrion said with affection for the beloved cousin of his favorite Uncle.  “As much as I esteem my goodsister, she is not exactly a Lady to spend much of her time in the company of other Ladies and would rather be in the practice yard with her husband and the other knights.  Ser Brienne also has a pure and open heart so she might not see any potential matches as anything but genuine. So in regards to my family, my cousin Joy will be a better judge of character but at ten and six she may not always be a reliable source of information.  Doubly so if her head is turned by a young man of her own.” he observed.

 

“And that is precisely why I asked someone else to assist you in this regard.  Someone that is not here to marry, is perceptive to others motivations, will move easily among the other Ladies, and knows your very, very well.”  the Queen continued with a smirk clearly proud of her cleverness.

 

Tyrion’s heart, already in his feet from this conversation, shattered and plummeted to the black cells.  He of course knew who she was talking about and the thought of his former wife screening potential new ones was enough to make him want to jump out the nearest window.  His misery, stirred some anger and resentment in him towards his Queen so he stole her thunder by asking “And Lady Stark has agreed to participate in this mummer’s farce?” he said with a hard edge to his voice gulping down the rest of his wine.

 

Annoyed, Daenerys answered, “Yes she has.  She holds you in the highest regard and wishes nothing but your happiness.”

 

Yes, he thought, happiness with somebody else, someone that wasn’t her.  Because she would never be happy with a Lannister, a dwarf, with the husband she never wanted.

 

“That is very kind of her but won’t she be busy with the actual summit, being Wardeness of the North?  What you ask of her is a trivial and isn’t she much too important to waste her time on such matters?” he replied.

 

“That is why I have the summit taking place over a long period of time my Lord Hand.  The houses are here for two important reasons, for political reasons of trade and so forth, and to unite the seven kingdoms through potential marriages.  Since my dear goodsister has made it known to Jon and myself she will never marry again she will have plenty of time to help you.” She crossed her arms in frustration.  “I thought this would please you. Lady Sansa and you are friends are you not? When we were at Winterfell and for the Coronation, you were almost always in her company when not with me or Jon.”

 

“You are correct your Grace.  We are friends.” And that is all we ever will be he thought resignedly.  He refilled his wine glass and decided to change the subject. “How does our King and Rhaegal fair with the Ironborn in the west?  Have you received any new ravens?”

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

Tyrion returned to his rooms early that evening and looked at it with a new eye.  Daenerys was completely right. He did live like a bachelor. There were papers, books, and notes everywhere.  His bed was unkempt, he had dirty clothes in piles and plates stacked with half eaten food (or to be honest uneaten food) that was starting to smell.  In short it was a pig sty and unbecoming to his station. He kept his room locked and would only allow the servants in if he was present. All of his important state secrets were  _ supposed  _ to be in his locked office the floor below in the Tower of the Hand, but in is current and ongoing state of disorganization he wasn’t sure what was where.  It had gotten bad enough in the last few weeks he had actually moved into one of the guest rooms to bathe and sleep, only coming in here to dress and look for books or papers he might need.  However, with the arrival of his family in the next few days, every room would be needed.

 

It only took him an hour or so to remove any sensitive information to his office below after which he immediately spoke with his head maid.  He asked for a bath to be drawn in the guest room while she and a team finally tackled his room that she had been bemoaning the filth of for weeks now.  When he came back to his room an hour later, it sparkled like new, and there were even fresh flowers in the vases. He wondered if this is how it would always look if he took a wife.  Would she allow him all his books? Would she change the decor to something more femine? He could almost imagine coming in to find her, lounging on a chair with her embroidery, her long red hair gleaming in the firelight smiling in delight at his return.  He groaned knowing he had pictured Sansa in that roll. He tried to tell himself it was just a memory of a time from their brief marriage but knew it was a lie. She had  _ never  _ been happy for his company back then.  And now… well it didn’t matter did it?

 

He moved to his wardrobe to dress himself for bed and was startled by his appearance in the mirror.  Tyrion avoided mirrors on a good day and he hadn’t one of those in several moonturns. There was no particular reason for it, but truth be told he had slipped into a depression awhile ago and it was only getting worse.  He used work to distract himself, to keep the demons at bay. But the voices and demons were becoming his only companions because at the core of it Tyrion was very, very lonely. He had Varys, Jon, and Daenerys all of whom were as busy as he.  But he missed Jamie, Pod, even Bronn. He longed to be with his new nephew and niece as he missed Tommen and Myrcella terribly. But most of all he missed Sansa. He missed her hard earned smiles, her biting tongue, her clever mind, her bright blue eyes that cut to his very soul past his armor of sarcasm and wit.  

 

Taking a hard look in the mirror, he took stock of what he had to work with.  Oh good he thought, an old scarred dwarf with bags under his eyes and the gauntness of a hard winter still on his face.  His beard was a mess and his curls unruly and neglected. He resolved to have the barber come tomorrow, there was no way he would let Sansa see him like this or his little niece Joanna for that matter.  He’d probably frighten her looking like a wildman.

 

As he dressed his stunted form and observed the disheveled mad looking dwarf in the mirror he started laughing hysterically.  He pointed at the mirror “Westerosi’s most eligible bachelor??? Try Westerosi’s least desirable bachelor!!!”

 

He slammed the wardrobe door shut, leaving the crazed, ugly dwarf behind and crawled laughing into the giant bed he slept in alone.  His laughs quickly turned into desperate sobs that racked his body until he was claimed by the blissful darkness of a dreamless sleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Arrival at the Pier

Sansa stood on the deck of the ship that had carried her from White Harbor to King’s Landing watching as the Red Keep and the walls of the city came into view.  The city shined like new again and the towers of the great keep shot into the sky reminding her of the first time she ever saw the city. She had been overawed by it’s magnificence and thought she’d died and gone to one of the seven heavens especially when she thought one day she might be it’s Queen.  What a great fool she had been. 

 

She noticed since the last time she visited for the duel coronation which was almost two years ago (a year after the fall of King’s Landing) that much had been rebuilt.  The Red Keep had taken the most damage from dragonfire and the Tower of the Hand had to have been completely rebuilt after Cersei refused to surrender despite insurmountable odds.   Sansa remembered the end of the war when finally, a plan had been hatched sending in a small task force consisting of Jaime Lannister, Arya, and Sandor Clegane through the tunnels Ayra had escaped in as a child.   Jamie would attempt to reason with his sister while Arya and Clegane dispatched the Mountain, Qyburn, and the remaining Kingsguard. As Sansa had always known, (not that anybody listened to her about that evil cunt)  Cersei could not be reasoned with and had tried to kill Jaime leaving him no choice but to end her life to save his own. 

 

In the distance Sansa could see the Sept of Balor being rebuilt like a phoenix rising from the ashes.  It had been the home of so much personal tradgedy for her from her father’s execution on it’s steps, to her forced marriage to Tyrion on Joffrey’s arm, to the mass murder that Cersei had commeted with wildfire killing her beautiful friend Margaery.  She had been told by Tyrion via letter that the rebuilt Sept would have a place to honor those victims as well as her father. She smiled to herself, thinking that her forced marriage to Tyrion might not be such a personal tragedy after all. They would not be the friends they were today without that ugly bit of history behind them.

 

At least, she  _ thought  _ they were friends.  But according to Jon who had been in Winterfell a moonturn ago, Tyrion was in a downward spiral, and she had possessed no clue from their ongoing correspondence.  She wondered why he had never reached out to her, she could have visited sooner with the North being at peace for the moment. Sansa had cornered Jon before he left and he confessed that Tyrion appeared to be sliding into a deep depression and he and Dany were unsure what to do to help him.  Jon hoped that the excitement of the Spring Summit/Gala and the presence of Jaime and his family would boost Tyrion’s mood while Daenerys thought that finding Tyrion a wife during the event was the cure for his ails. Sansa had even tried to ask Bran about Tyrion. As cryptic as ever he just said  “Lord Tyrion is a lonely man despite being in one of the most crowded cities in Westeros.”

 

Desperate to help Tyrion, for reasons she didn’t quite understand other that a deep affection she had for him, she had agreed to help Daenerys make sure any potential brides he might choose were not trying to pursue him for nefarious reasons.  At the time it had sounded like a reasonable course of action, the only one available to her to help him, but as King’s Landing loomed all to real in front of her, she doubted her ability to do it. She felt a strange fluttering in her lower stomach when she thought of Tyrion marrying again and she wasn’t quite sure why.  He has become a close friend and confidant so perhaps she was afraid a wife wouldn’t allow their friendship to be as close as it was. 

 

A familiar voice broke her train of thought, “We will be docking shortly my Lady.”  Podrick Payne told her as he approached her from the bridge. He pointed at a ship about a mile out to sea “and I think our friends are right behind us.”  She smiled with joy as she saw the sail bearing the stars and moons of the House Tarth sigil turning into Blackwater Bay. Ser Jaime and Brienne had come by ship to King’s Landing from Casterly Rock with a lengthy visit to Tarth before the Spring Summit.  Their newborn son, Selwyn, was to be his grandfather’s heir (Joanna Lannister would inherit the Rock under the new Targaryen laws) and he was eager to spend time with his grandchildren.

 

As they approached the pier, a small figure dressed in black could be seen amongst the guards and porters.  Podrick excitedly shouted “Lord Tyrion” and began waving wildly. Sansa just smiled as the small figure raised his hand in acknowledgment. Podrick, Ser Podrick, may have been three years her senior at five and twenty but often acted much younger.  He had been a good man to have at her back these last years and despite his age she thought of him as a substitute younger brother as Bran was at this point a shell that housed the three-eyed raven. It was good to see Podrick lighting up again, his spirit could never be truly dampened, but the North was not his home and she was afraid more time isolated in Winterfell would start to wear poorly on him.  She hoped that this time in King’s Landing would give him the time to forge his true path in life and if Lady Lannister had any say in it that would involve marriage. Marriage in particular to a young woman that Brienne has become very close with. Sansa smiled to herself hoping Podrick had a thing for blondes. But she would leave that in Brienne’s hands, apparently she had to play matchmaker for her former husband and the thought of that caused her smile to slip.

 

Finally, they disembarked, and made their way down the pier to where they had seen Lord Tyrion.  When Sansa finally caught a glimpse of him, he was looking down the bay to see where the ship from Tarth would be docking.  She hurried forward, anxious to finally set eyes on him worried as she was about what Daenerys and Jon had said. She expected to find an exhausted, weary man and remembered how soft and sad his eyes had been that terrible night in the crypt.  But the man she saw was not that man. This Tyrion dressed in black looked lean and tense. Too lean in truth, his face a bit gaunt and his clothes a bit too loose. When he finally turned to greet her, she was shocked to see that he had shaved off his beard revealing his scar and strong jawline and the sight caused her breath to catch in her throat.  Margaery was right, she had always been right and she had been too blind to see it. Tyrion was in fact a very handsome man, and the scar only emphasized his attractive face. It made him look fierce and strong like the mighty little lion he was. It was unfair that men’s scars could make them more attractive. Her own, although hidden by her clothes, made her feel ugly and soiled.

 

Eight long years had passed since she had married Tyrion in the Sept.  Sometimes it felt like a lifetime, but now...now it felt like an instant. Sansa continued to walk towards him, legs numb, heart pounding, experiencing all the same sensations she had felt on their wedding day. He looked so much like he did in the early days of their marriage that she wondered if she had slipped back in time.  But her husband Tyrion had always looked at her with soft, kind eyes even if she had mostly despised him for it and years later her friend Tyrion had looked at her much the same if a little sadder and world weary. But this Tyrion had a burning hardness to his eyes that she had never witnessed and Sansa’s flash of reminiscence for times gone by burned away in them.

 

“Lady Stark, I am pleased to see you again.  I’m afraid our Queen in her condition could not be here to greet you and your bro---cousin is still helping Lady Yara with the troubles in the Iron Islands although we expect him to be back in the next week or so.”  he said formally.

 

“Jon will always be my brother my Lord, no matter his parentage.  I am glad to hear he will be back soon. I hope my Queen and goodsister will be up to a visit soon.  I long to see my nephew.” She paused contemplating him looking in this hard man for the confidant she wrote letters to sharing her fears for the North.   “While I am sad that my family is not here to greet me my Lord,” Sansa said giving him a hopeful smile trying to break through this new hardness “I am always happy to be in your company again.”

 

She was rewarded with this comment with a glimpse of her friend Tyrion underneath this hard exterior exhibited by a softening of his eyes and a faint blush.  “As I am glad to be in yours my Lady. I just wish…” He was interrupted when Podrick joined their conversation. 

 

“The porters have been given our room assignments and will have our luggage to the room within the hour.” he reported before giving Tyrion a giant smile.  “It it excellent to see you again my Lord.”

 

“Aw Podrick--Ser Podrick--it is always good to see you.  How is the great frozen wasteland treating you? Has Lady Stark married you off to one of her bannerman’s families yet?”  Tyrion quipped.

 

“The North is wild and beautiful  _ Lord Hand”   _ Sansa said.  If he was going to keep calling her Lady Stark she would see how he likes his own title being thrown back at him by her.  “And no, Ser Podrick has not married amongst the Northern families.”

 

“You are right my dear Lady Sansa.”  he said with much more warmth to his voice, “The North is wild and beautiful much like it’s Lady.”  Sansa was used to ignoring the insincere flattery of men, but this comment from Tyrion caused a warmth to spread in her chest.

 

He turned to Podrick “So is your Lady here to find you a wife as well?” he quipped giving Sansa a hard side-eyed look.  With a sinking feeling she understood why his behavior to her had been so odd. Daenerys had shared her plan with Tyrion, and he was none too pleased about it.  In fact he was angry, and she believed he was especially angry with her.

 

“A wife?” Podrick stammered in confusion.

 

“Oh look.” Sansa said trying to distract the two men.  “The Tarth ship had docked five slips down. Let’s go greet the Lannister party.”

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

Lord and Lady Lannister had just come off the ship as their party approached.  Ser Jaime looked as handsome as ever and swept downwards to gather his brother in a warm embrace.  Meanwhile Sansa embraced Brienne while Podrick stammered a greeting before Brienne turned and enveloped him in a warm hug as well.  Motherhood had softened her friend Sansa thought. Brienne looked stronger and more beautiful than she ever had in her dress of Lannister Red although Sansa knew that if you examined the dress more closely, you could see it was actually pants.  A fad that was all the rage in the West and was beginning to be adopted by the Ladies of the Reach as well. Who knew that Ser Brienne would be such a fashion trendsetter?

 

Sansa briefly overheard Jaime and Tyrion’s conversation while Podrick talked to Brienne.

 

“You look like hell little brother.”  Jaime said quietly. “Doesn’t the Dragon Queen feed her advisors or let them sleep?”

 

“My Queen is no more pleased by this than you are.  So displeased she thinks I need a minder like a child to care for me.”  Tyrion said in a bitter jape.

 

“A minder?  Like our old Septa?” Jaimie laughed.

 

“Worse-- a wife!”  Tyrion laughed. “Foolish woman thinks I should burden someone with all of this again.” he said gesturing at his small form

 

“Can’t say I agree with you brother.  I quite like having a wife to care for me and warm my bed.” Jamie said with a salacious smile.

 

“You have been luckier than I have in that department brother.  Both of my marriages were the makings of tragedies but maybe the third times the charm.  Who knows? Stranger things have happened after all, the dead have walked, and there are dragons in the world again.  Maybe I can find a woman who willingly wants to be my wife.” Tyrion said with a rueful laugh. “And I think we all know how much you like having your wife in your bed.”   He looked around excitedly “Where are my niece and nephew anyway?” 

 

Sansa’s heart pounded and she felt sorrow for Tyrion.  During their marriage he had been nothing but decent and kind to her and she had returned none of it misdirecting her anger at the only Lannister she could hurt-her husband.  The fact that she had been no more than a child was of little comfort. Her parents had raised her better than that. She should have at least accepted the friendship he offered but it was not until Joffrey’s wedding that she had realized just how imprisoned by his family Tyrion was too.  And then she was gone and it was too late for a stupid girl to tell a good man how sorry she was.

 

A lovely blonde teenage girl appeared on the deck holding an equally beautiful little girl of the same coloring.  She carried her down the gangway before carefully placing the child down. Giggling the little girl ran to her father’s side and then peered at her Uncle.  “Uncle Tyri?”

 

“Yes, Joanna love.  I’m glad you remembered me, I haven’t seen you since you became a big sister.” Tyrion said with affection in his voice

 

“I ‘member Uncle Tyri, he little like me.  But I will be tall like Mama and Papa. What happened to your beard Uncle Tyri?” Joanna asked reaching out and touching his face.

 

“I got so busy at work that I let my beard grow and grow and grow until one day I started hearing cheeps coming from inside.  I went to look in the mirror and I had a bird’s nest inside. I didn’t want to disturb the baby birds so I shaved my face like the farmers sheer the sheep and left it to be their home on the window of the tower.  If you like after we get settled I’ll show you.”

 

“Really?”  She said with delight.

 

“It also makes my kisses less ticklish” he said kissing her face and neck while she squealed.  “Or was that more ticklish I can’t remember?” he said laughing.

 

Sansa felt her heart melt at the scene unfolding before her.  She could remember how much Tyrion had adored Tommen and Myrcella and how good he was with children.  It was sad he had never had any of his own. He would have made a fantastic father. While everyone was delighted by Joanna’s charms and her Uncle’s story, Sansa had noticed that Podrick had not taken his eyes off the young woman that accompanied her off the ship.  The girl had certainly noticed him, and they were doing their utmost to not gawk at each other. Sansa discreetly nudged Brienne to divert her attention away from her daughter. Catching on quickly, she indicated for the young Lady to join her.

 

“Lady Stark, Ser Podrick  I would like you to meet Joy Lannister cousin to Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion.”

 

“Lady Stark it is so good to meet you finally.  I have heard so much about your from my cousins.”  Joy said politely. Sansa studied her and she was a lovely mix of both Cersei and Myrcella but without the sharpness of one or the fragility of the other making her a hint more beautiful and a million times more approachable.  

 

“Please call me Sansa.  There is no need for the formality among friends old or new.”  Sansa said.

 

“Lady Joy” Podrick said with a bow when he finally found his tongue. “Have you ever visited King’s Landing before?”

 

“No, this is my first time.” she said with a smile admiring the young knight.

 

“I squired here for your cousin Lord Tyrion before I squired for Ser Brienne.  If you need anybody to escort you around I would be happy to help you explore.”  Podrick said doing his best to sound knightly.

 

“That would be delightful.  I was afraid I would be bored with my cousins gone with Summit meetings during the day.” she said giving Podrick a shy glance.

 

Suddenly an infant’s cry could be heard and a beautiful woman with Dornish coloring appeared carrying young Lord Selwyn.  She moved with the grace of a dancer down the gangway while attempting to soothe the baby. He was mostly calm by the time she reached Brienne.

 

“The Little Lord is hungry cousin, perhaps we should get the children settled.” the beauty said with the barest hint of a Dornish accent.  She eyed Sansa and Podrick politely waiting for introductions.

 

“Lady Stark, Ser Podrick I would like to introduce my cousin Lady Loreyna Jordayne.  She is the acting Lady of Evenfall Hall.”

 

“Only because my Uncle is too bullheaded to marry again.” Lady Loreyna said quickly.  “I am pleased to meet you both, especially you Lady Stark. My cousin had had nothing but praise for you and your mother.”

 

“You are one to talk!  Last I heard my father had driven away yet another batch of suitors per your request.”  Brienne said with a laugh.

 

“Now that Uncle has formerly made Selwyn his heir, the rabble should dissipate.  I am now no longer a possible path to become Lord of Tarth, just regent should something happen before the younger Selwyn is able to take over for his grandfather.  But knowing my Uncle, I will blissfully never be needed. He’ll outlive us all.” Lady Loreyna explained cheerfully.

 

Sansa studied the two women looking for a hint of their relatedness.  Lady Loreyna was the physical opposite of her cousin. She was a curvy woman, a good foot shorter than Brienne, with lovely olive skin and shoulder length black wavy hair.  But standing together Sansa could see they both had the same huge blue eyes and stubborn set to their jaws. Sansa already knew she would like this woman as much as she loved Brienne.

 

Out of the corner of her eye Sansa saw Tyrion edge around his brother to stare in wonder at the new edition to the party. Finally their eyes met and they both grew large with recognition.

 

“Reyna?” he said with surprise in his voice.

 

“Hugor?” Lady Loreyna said in disbelief.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is this mystery Lady from Tyrion's past? Why does she think his name is Hugor? Does Podrick truly prefer blondes? These questions and more will be answered (eventually) lovely readers!!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, thank you for the kudos and comments! I hope you enjoy fellow Sanrion shippers!


	3. A tragic thing indeed

“Hugor Hill?  Really? That’s the name you went with in Essos?”  Jamie said in disbelief. “Might as well have named yourself Bran the Builder if you wanted everyone to know how fake your name was.   Or was your imaginary mother a despoiled septa?” Jamie continued still shaking his head ruefully at the bizarre spectacle he had witnessed on the docks.

 

“Who the fuck is Hugor Hill?”  Bronn said leaning forward on the couch in Tyrion’s study to pour himself another glass of wine.  The lanky former sellsword-turned-knight-turned-Lord had made himself at home in the Tower apparently awaiting the Lannisters return and had helped himself to the refreshments laid out for the family as well as the Hand’s personal stash of Dornish Red.

 

“Hugor of the Hill?  From the Seven-Pointed Star?  Even an uneducated cur like you has to have heard of him?”  Jamie said cuttingly grabbing the decanter to poor himself a glass of wine.

 

“Can’t say that I have.  Some of us were busy learning to survive not nancing about some sept getting buggered by old septons.  Who’d this Hugor fella kill?” Bronn said sounding bored.

 

“He was the legendary first king of the Andals.”  Jamie continued and quoted “ _ The Father reached his hand into the heavens and pulled down seven stars, and one by one he set them on the brow of Hugor of the Hill - to make a glowing crown. The Maiden brought him forth a girl as supple as willow, with eyes like deep pools, and Hugor declared that he would have her for his bride. So the Mother made her fertile, and the Crone foretold that she would bear the king four-and-forty mighty sons. The Warrior gave strength to their arms, whilst the Smith wrought for each a suit of iron plates _ ."

 

“Well the Maiden part at least sounds interesting.”  Bronn said with a wicked smile. “But what’s that got to do with this little shit’s hot Dornish ex?”  His head whipped around to look at Tyrion his eyes wide. “Oh fuck, your ex-wife and ex-girlfriend in the same place at the same time.  I would have paid a gold dragon to see that!”

 

“Enough!”  Tyrion roared through clenched teeth as he snatched the wine away from both of them pouring himself a glass.  He addressed Jaime. “I was running for my life, you try to come up with a good name on the fly. The only thing more memorable than a scarred dwarf is the name Lannister in Essos.”

 

“And you!”  he said to Bronn. “How in the seven hells did you even get in here? I certainly didn’t invite you!  My guards better be in one piece.”

 

“I’m getting too old for that nonsense.  I simply said the Lord of the Reach needed to speak with the Queen’s Hand.  That and my hand on my sword that is.” Bronn said with a wink.

 

“Lord of the Reach..please” said Jamie disgustingly.  “You’re only Lord of Highgarden because you held a crossbow to mine and my brother’s throat.  At least Daenerys had the good sense to make Samwell Tarly Lord of the Reach since she had to carry out our promise or be down a Hand and the Warden of the West.”

 

“Tarly’s a good lad, leaves me be and causes me no trouble.  Guess it was the least the Dragon Queen could do after she incinerated his father and brother even if Randyll Tarly was an epic 

cunt.”  Bronn said and immediately the mood in the room turned somber.  The three Lords drank their wine in silence for a minute.

 

“So who is the Dornish beauty anyway?”  Bronn finally said. “I’d ask if she’s single but I’m a happily married man with a little ‘un on the way.”

 

“How you managed to find the last Tyrell alive even if she was born on the wrong side of the sheets is beyond me.”  Tyrion said thinking of the raven haired woman who looked eerily similar to her late half-sister. So much so that he would have to warn Sansa before they meet tomorrow at the Summit’s opening night feast.

 

“Please, she found me.  Nothing stops them Tyrell women from their goals even if they’ve gone by the name Flowers their whole life.”  Bronn said with a broad grin. “And the goal of any bastard is to become the Lord or Lady of the name they can’t have.  Although Jenna is a Blackwater and not a Tyrell she’s still Lady of Highgarden.”

 

Bronn looked expectantly at the two Lannisters waiting for the answer to his earlier question.  Tyrion sighed “As I already told you both, I only ever knew her as Reyna, the niece of a Dornish wine merchant, for less than a week in Pentos before Varys and I left for Mereen.  I think Jaime knows the true story of his wife’s relation better than I do.” Tyrion looked at Jaime while sipping his wine trying not to reveal his fervent curiosity about the woman he had closely befriended briefly and intensely years ago.

 

“Lady Loreyna Jordayne is the daughter of Lord Selwyn’s late sister,  Lady Selena, and Lord Trebor Jordayne of the Tor. I know that Lady Selena was Lord Jordayne’s second wife and that  Loreyna’s elder sister, Myria, from his first marriage is his heir. I believe her mother died when she was still a child and for some reason she came to live with Brienne and her uncle in her early teens.  I also know she was married to a knight of common birth that served my goodfather’s household but has been widowed for some years now. Other than that I know my wife and her father are very fond of her, she’s great with my children, and in truth is doing more to govern Tarth than Lord Selwyn or herself would readily admit.”

 

Tyrion just sipped his wine pensively hoping that he was masking the turmoil of thoughts swirling around his brain.  While Reyna may have lied about her true identity, the narrative Jaime just told matched up with what she had shared with him--minus important details like her noble birth.  But he had lied too about the details of his story.

 

“So what’s really the deal with this Lady Loreyna,  did you fuck her?” Bronn said leaning forward with a glint in his eye.  If there was one thing you could count on for the new Lord of Highgarden, he didn’t mince his words.  Tyrion was almost happy to see him in that moment---almost. It was refreshing to hear some honesty for once amongst the backstabbers and gossips of the capitol.

 

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “No, I did not disgrace the Lady.”

 

“But you remember her, and apparently with some fondness after all these years.  Can you say that for most of the whores you fucked?” Bronn chuckled darkly to himself waggeling his eyebrows.  “I’m trying to imagine what the fuck that means.”

 

“It means that I found someone prettier to talk to in Pentos than Varys.”  Tyrion said. “If you were stuck with nobody but him for weeks, you’d flee Illyrio Mopatis’s manse at night as well.  And I say this as one of his closest friends.” He made the jape trying to deflect how Bronn’s words rang true. He could barely remember the names and faces of half the woman he had slept with.  At one point he may have been proud of this, but his whoremongering days were long, long over and now he was disgusted by this fact. This also put a new perspective on Daenerys request that he consider marriage again.  Perhaps, it would be nice for just one woman to share his bed and his life with if they were amenable to a battered old dwarf for a husband. They might never find love, but Gods he longed for a woman’s touch and missed worshipping the perfection that was the female body.

 

Tyrion continued to woolgather for awhile until he noticed his brother and Bronn just staring at him waiting to continue.  He drank some more and sighed knowing the only way to rid them from his chamber was to satiate their curiosity. “I was a broken man when I arrived in Pentos.  My father and sister tried to execute me for a crime I didn’t commit, my lover had betrayed me, and my wife had left me moments after the murder damning me furthur.”  He paused momentarily surprised he had brought up Sansa, but deep down her abandonment had wounded him but he scarcely could blame her for it in the end. “In the end, I became the monster everyone knew I was, fleeing the country a murderer after all.”  He looked at the two men but saw no sign of judgement in their eyes. After all, both of them had blood, a lot of it in fact, on their own hands.

 

  He continued, “I had found a way out of the walls of the manse, a small hole that was fit for only a child or a dwarf in my case and would wander along the coastline at night when I couldn’t sleep.”  The only time he had in fact slept during the first few weeks of exile was when he had passed out from drink. With sleep came dreams, and all the ghosts who accompanied them. “Reyna as she called herself, told me that she was a recent widow, and suffered the same insomnia and heartbreak as I.  She approached me one night thinking I was a lone lost child, and we got to talking both being Westerosi in a strange land. It became evident that we were both in need of someone to unburden ourselves with, and we talked for hours. This repeated for the next few nights until I left.” He paused drumming his fingers on the table.  “I often wondered what happened to her. She seemed like a lovely, intelligent woman but there was a deep and abiding sadness to her.” A sadness that had reminded him of his young wife in fact. “I never knew we were  _ both _ lying about our true identity.”

 

“Well, she  _ had  _ just been widowed.”  Jaime said. “And it was a love match from what I understood from Brienne.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “True.”  But he knew it went beyond that.  In their last hours together, she had told him the real story of why she had left her home to live with her uncle.  She had held his hand and cried afterwards and that was the last time he had touched a woman in any intimate way until he had held Sansa’s hand and kissed it in the crypt.  But none of this was his story to tell. Secrets like that, revealed by a relative stranger, on a dark night, in a foreign land should be forever kept by the recipient.

 

“I know why you lied about your identity, but why did she?”  Bronn asked.

 

“I’m not entirely sure, but a woman of noble birth wandering the shores at night might attract attention she wasn’t looking for.  For all she knew I could have been a part of a scheme to kidnap and ransom unsuspecting victims.”

 

“Or sometimes you just want to be yourself without your past and your name coloring everything you say or do.”  Jamie said quietly. He contemplated his wine cup while Bronn and Tyrion stared wide eyed at each other in silent communication.  It was hard for them to remember how long he had suffered and lived with the moniker of Kingslayer, oathbreaker, a knight without honor.

 

An uncomfortable silence followed before Bronn changed the subject.  “Rumor has it that you are to be on the auction block for all the ladies to fight over.”

 

“What?”  Jaime asked looking at Tyrion for an explanation.

 

“Her Grace has asked me to consider the possibility of marriage again.”  Tyrion said diplomatically to his brother. “And I sincerely doubt any of the Ladies you or any other Lord brought with them to court are interested in an old dwarf to be their husband so this will all be for naught.” he said addressing Bronn.

 

“You’d be surprised at the murmurings of who’s gonna land the Queen’s Hand.”  Bronn said. “Plus there are three women for every eligible man. Not to mention the rumors that still surround your bedroom prowess although I hear the brothels no longer have your funding.”

 

“Does the Queen knows you’re shit at sussing out a women’s intentions once your cock is involved?”  Jaime finally said. Tyrion saw the worried look on his brother’s face and tried not to be too terribly offended.  He did have a dreadful history.

 

“My Jenna could help you out there, she’s already watching out for a number of the Reach’s ladies including Lady Talla Tarley as her brother and Lady Gilly are staying at Hornhill with her about to pop out another babe.”  He spoke with admiration of his bride “I tell you what, if Varys ever retires, my wife would be a good Mistress of Whispers. She’s always in the know about all the rumors in the land. She never ceases to amaze me.” He placed down his glass of wine and stood to leave.  “I really should go check on her. She’s five moons into this pregnancy but still pushes herself too hard if I don’t stop her. I’ll see you two cunts tomorrow.”

 

The brothers watched their former sellsword/friend/blackmailer leave before turning to each other.  “Did he...did he just say ‘My Jenna’ and speak of one of his wife’s qualities other than her tits and ass or am I drunker than I thought?” said Tyrion before meeting Jaime’s eyes and bursting out in laughter.

 

“Poor Bronn, such a tragic thing to fall in love with one’s own wife.”  Jaime guffawed.

 

‘Ah, yes a tragic thing indeed’  Tyrion thought as images of Sansa floating ethereally down the pier towards him filled his brain.  He was well and truly fucked.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to hear from you wonderful readers! Comments fuel the engine of my brain.


	4. Sometimes love comes after marriage

Sansa basked in the warmth of the Queen’s solar with her young nephew on her lap.  She remembered the room all too well from her time trapped here with Cersei and sometimes she swore she would flick her eyes and see her standing there with that self satisfied smirk holding a glass of wine to her mouth.  Warding off the ghosts of tormentors long dead, Sansa wrapped an arm around the precious child pulling him to her chest and inhaling the sweet smell of his dark hair. Prince Jorah was blessed with his mother’s violet eyes and pale skin but his curls were all Jon, thick and unruly.  Sansa remembered when Rickon was his age and clung to him a little tighter. Rickon had been as much her babe as her mother’s when he was born. At first he was a novelty, a doll come to life for a young girl, but soon he was  _ hers  _ and she doted on him and carried him everywhere.  As he grew out of the toddler stage and became more energetic, he wanted less to do with her and wanted to be with the boys or Arya who was as wild as he.  It had upset Sansa at first but she was becoming a young woman and was more interested in young men than little brothers. The scent and feel of Jorah’s hair against her nose brought back a memory both wonderful and painful of her last night in Winterfell before leaving with her father when Rickon had crawled into her bed crying, fretting that she was leaving.  She had held him and assured him that they would not be separated forever. If only she had known how wrong she’d be.

 

“Are you alright Sansa?”  Daenerys asked softly. Sometimes, it was hard to remember the relationship she had with her Queen when she had first arrived at Winterfell.  She had been all fire and fury and Sansa all ice but now the fire had cooled and the ice had melted into a welcome thaw. They might never be sisters, never be the relationship she had with Margaery, but they could be friends.

 

“I was just thinking of our youngest brother, Rickon.  I was enamored of him as a girl and thought of him as my own.”  Sansa said with a wan smile. There was more to it as well, visions of a life she thought she might once have, where the child on her lap might be her own.  But that would never come to pass, her mind was made up on the subject of marriage. “He enjoyed it when I read him stories. Do you like it when your mother reads you stories Jorah?”

 

“I like Mama’s stories, but Lord Tyrion’s are better.”  the child said starting to squirm in Sansa’s lap. “He does all the voices and makes the dragons ROAR!”  the child said playing with his wooden dragon figure courtesy of Ser Davos.

 

“Yes, Lord Tyrion very much enjoys reading with you doesn’t he Jorah.” answered his mother. The child nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Jorah, did you know that Lord Tyrion’s niece just arrived today at King’s Landing today.  She’s your age and just became a big sister herself. Would you like to play with her soon and learn what it’s like to have a little brother or sister?”  Sansa asked. “I’m sure we can talk Lord Tyrion into a story as well.”

 

“Or you may have both a sister and a brother.”  Daenerys said shifting her weight on the bench. Daenerys was without a doubt a beautiful woman, eclipsing both Cersei and Margaery in beauty with her silver hair and violet eyes.  But those eyes currently had large bags under them and looked tense and exhausted. Some of that had to do with Jon’s absence and the stress of the Spring Summit planning, but most of it had to do with the physical burden the pregnancy was placing on her body.

 

“Twins?”  Sansa asked with a smile.

 

“Hopefully just the two.  I don’t know if I can handle a litter.”  Daenerys said with a tired huff.  

 

Jorah slipped off Sansa’s lap and went to play with his toys on the balcony.  She watched him fondly with a sigh. “He’s darling. I wish I could see him more.  Perhaps when he’s older he can come to Winterfell for awhile. It would be good for him to learn his Northern heritage and for the Northerners to know their future king.  We are a stubborn lot and if he understood our ways it could only help him. Well that and one of his siblings being heir to Winterfell of course.” Sansa said.

 

“So you’re still determined to not remarry and have children of your own?  I must admit I hoped spending time with your nephew as well as Lord Tyrion’s niece and nephew might change your mind.”  Daenerys said. “You are too young to give up on love and unlike your sister a family was always part of your plan according to Jon.”

 

“If the children would arrive under the Weirwood tree as old Nan said, I would have a dozen.”  Sansa said. “But sadly that is not the case and no man will control my home or my body again. And besides what does marriage have to do with love?” Sansa asked bitterly. 

 

“I am not going to pretend to understand the extent your past has scarred you.  Just know that some of our wounds are the same. I too was forced to marry a man as a girl of ten and four for my name, my beauty.   My wedding night was as brutal and savage as Drogo was so my introduction to marital relations was neither kind nor gentle. Our stories diverge from there but know I understand some of your fear and while you may not think that you will ever want a man in your life and in your bed,  I think someday you might if you allow your heart to open.” Daenerys said while holding her goodsister’s hand.

 

“As for love and marriage...in a perfect world they would always go together and people would meet and fall in love with whomever they wanted.  But this is not a perfect world and sometimes with time, trust, and friendship love comes after the marriage.”

 

“Like my parents.”  Sansa said. “It took years for them to fall in love, especially after my father brought home a bastard child shattering what small trust my mother had in her stranger of a husband.  I wish he had felt he could tell her, but truthfully my mother’s disdain of Jon is part of what kept him safe from King Robert. At least, that’s what I tell myself and Jon too of course.”

 

“I understand Lady Catelyn was a fiery sort and agree with what you say about Jon.  Her ready acceptance of a bastard would raise a few eyebrows. As for you, what I'm saying is I’d hate for you to not even try.  Falling in love with your brother changed and most likely saved my life. After the Long Night, after Ser Jorah, I was teetering on the edge of oblivion and if Jon hadn’t caught me and our babe hadn’t grounded me…”  She rubbed her belly and stared off not finishing her thought as a dark shadow crossed her eyes.

 

Not wanting to tread into the darkness Daenerys may have slipped into, Sansa moved the subject to the main reason she was meeting her.  “Is this the same speech you gave Tyrion? About love and marriage? Of trying again?”

 

“Somewhat.”  the Queen said with a frown.  “He’s angry with me now. He won’t tell me that directly, but our interactions have been nothing but business since I told him my hopes of him finding a bride in the next few weeks.  There just may not be an opportunity like this again to meet so many women and with him becoming more and more depressed….I just thought he needed a push.” She picked absently at her food.  “I hope in time he’ll know I was acting out of concern for his welfare.”

 

“And what if like myself, he chooses to remain unwed?”  Sansa said.

 

“And then nothing.  I’ll try another way to help him.  I may send him home to Casterly Rock with his brother for awhile.  He is drowning himself in wine and work using it as an excuse to not live.”  Daenerys said. “I truly worry for him. Varys has confided that he hasn’t seen him this bad since he let him out of the crate in Pentos.”

 

Guilt flooded her as it always did with the mention of his flight, but the mention of Pentos reminded herself of the strange interaction between Tyrion and Lady Loreyna earlier.  All the group on the dock had garnered from the two of them was that they had met in Pentos both under assumed identities after he fled Westeros. ( _ After you abandoned him to die  _ her conscious whispered.)  Her plan was to get more of the story from Brienne later.  She doubted Tyrion was in the mood to share with her.

 

“He looked too thin and a bit haggard when I saw him on the dock but not as terrible as I feared.  I was surprised to see he shaved. He looks much younger without the beard. It reminded me of when we were married.”  Sansa gave a small smile as her tummy fluttered thinking about how handsome he looked on the dock. The smile fled her face as quickly as it came when she recalled the hardness in his eyes.

 

“And you think of this with fondness now?”  the Queen asked curiously. 

 

“In light of my second marriage yes.”  Sansa said with ice in her voice. “Plus a sham marriage led to a real friendship.  Although, I believe he is currently angry with me as well.”

 

“He values your friendship too much to be angry for long.  With that being said we might as well discuss logistics.” She passed a thick sheet of papers to Sansa.  “This is a list of all the eligible Ladies that will be in attendance with their houses, ages, and any pertinent information about them courtesy of Lord Varys.”  She passed a smaller stack to her. “And this is a list of the eligible Gentlemen including Lords and Knights that will be there.”

 

“Why do I need this one?” Sansa said.  

 

 “I wanted you to see the top four names, they are the most powerful single men in the kingdom.  A good match could make or break them.”

 

Sansa read “Quentyn Martell Prince of Dorne,  Robin Arryn Lord of the Vale, Gendry Baratheon Lord of Storm's End, and Tyrion Lannister Hand of the Queen.”

 

“Of those four men you have a close connection with three of them.  The Prince can handle himself but I’m going to need some help with the other three.  Your cousin Robin, to be blunt, is weak and the true power of the Vale will likely fall into his wife’s lap so a good match is crucial there.”  Daenerys said.  

 

“Agreed, luckily manhood has been kind to Robin and he has grown to be quite handsome.  My advice is to let him make his own match but keep an eye out for trouble.” Sansa replied.  “He’ll recognize manipulation and act in a contrary fashion much like a spoiled child. So if interference is needed, approach the woman not him.”

 

“I had thought maybe Lord Tyrion’s cousin would be a good candidate.  She is reported to be quite intelligent as well as beautiful and is around his age.”  Daenerys continued.

 

“Joy is all that but was also looking quite besotted with Ser Podrick when I last saw her to Lady Brienne’s pleasure.” Sansa said with a grin.  “Plus the Vale would never accept a Lannister, especially a bastard born one, legitimized or not. They’re a stodgy bunch. Look to the Ladies of the Vale, Riverlands, or the Reach.  Our Aunt Roslin may be a good source of help there and gentle and tactful enough to deal with Robin.”

 

“Good idea.  As for young Joy I’ll guess I’ll remove her from a possible match for Gendry too enlight of a certain knight, although I wondered at the wisdom of matching two legitimized bastards to begin with.  I have enough rumblings from the Reach with Highgarden being run by a former sellsword and his bastard born wife although Lady Jenna is winning them over faster than her husband can alienate them.”

 

“I have yet to meet her.”  Sansa said but the rumors indicated that there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that she was a Tyrell.

 

“Oh my are you in for a treat!  Imagine Lady Olenna coming into her prime.” Daenerys said with a wicked grin.

 

“Gods.”

 

“Combine that with Lord Bronn’s less than orthodox way of ruling and you have a match made in heaven or hell depending on the day.  Although I must say I quite enjoy her company and of all people Varys does too. I think he recognizes a kindred soul since they both have their finger in every pie.”

 

Sansa asked “Back to Gendry,  I’m not sure what you want me to do about him.  I barely know him.” She could only remember him from Winterfell as being handsome, much like Lord Renly but not as refined.  And of course she knew of his relationship with Arya.

 

“He denies it to Ser Davos but we all believe he’s still pining for your sister.  It’s been three years and she’s not coming back is she?” the Queen replied.

 

Sansa’s heart ached, her sister’s absence still an empty whole in her soul.  “Bran says she is alive and well but no she’s not coming back. Someday I hope, but she will never return to marry Gendry or be his Lady.  That’s not her. It took me most of my life to realize it, but it’s the truth.”

 

“I think he needs to hear that truth from you.  He’s young, handsome, kind, and taking to his position quickly.  A marriage to a true born Lady to help solidify his claim would be ideal.  Too many house names are gone or will be soon. I’d hate to add Baratheon to the list after trying to save it.”

 

_ Like Stark  _ Sansa thought painfully.  The name would die with her and her siblings.

 

“And Tyrion?”  Sansa asked with an unexpected drop in her gut she didn’t quite acknowledge.

 

“All I want for Tyrion is someone who genuinely wants him for the good, kind man we know.  Not his power, not his name. Somebody who enjoys his wit and can keep up with his mind. Someone to care for him and ease his burden and make him smile again.”  She smiled grasping Sansa’s hand one more time. “It is what I wish for you as well Sansa if you choose to allow it.”

 

Sansa looked down at the papers she had been given.  Between this and the actual duties of Wardeness of the North during the Summitt she would be lucky to get a moment's rest.  Just as well she thought, she hadn’t slept a full night since Joffrey took her father’s head.

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

List in hand, Sansa headed for the Tower of the Hand that evening hoping to speak with Tyrion.  Ser Podrick Payne, who was positively giddy with repressed excitement at the prospect of spending time with a certain blonde young lady, escorted her.  She left him in the common area with Lady Joy before heading up the stairs to Tyrion’s study where he was reported to be. Just as she was to knock, she heard low voices through the only partially closed door.  She glanced through the door to see Tyrion and Lady Loreyna sitting together rather cozily by the fire. He held her hand between his own while he spoke to her in low, gentle tones. His eyes were soft like they usually were when he addressed her, but this time they were for somebody else.  A sadness seeped into her bones when she thought of how steely his gaze had been for her earlier that day.

 

Sansa stared at the list in her hand feeling a fool and thinking maybe she should just go.  The site of him being intimate with another woman made the realization that Tyrion may actually remarry become all too real and her heart clenched.   She turned to leave, not wanting to be seen by the couple inside, when all the peculiar emotions she had been having about her former husband suddenly coalesced into a single life altering thought.    _ I have feelings for Tyrion Lannister. _

 

This shocking epiphany caused her to drop the sheaf of paper on the floor in a loud whoosh causing the occupants of the study to become aware of her presence. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate any comments. Next chapter will be Tyrion and Sansa interaction I promise!


	5. A dim spark

Tyrion was working alone in his study after dinner, going over some last minute details of the Summit agenda.  Glancing over the schedule for the next few weeks, he noticed while it looked like it would be quite busy the Queen had ingeniously made the schedule to be business most mornings with social events in the evening.  He had originally planned to spend this time with his family and friends but now he would have to spend some of it talking to prospective brides. Resentfully, he sighed in frustration at the intrusion on his free time but then chided himself.  Tyrion had always enjoyed the company of women and who knew, maybe he’d hit it off with one of them. There was a part of him, so small it was like a dim spark, that was starting to agree with Daenerys. Marriage was starting to sound like a more pleasant and reasonable idea.  He was so fucking tired of being alone and that dim little spark was starting to resemble hope. Hope that maybe he could find contentment and happiness with another. He didn’t dare ask for love, somethings would always be just beyond his reach. Closing his eyes and half praying to the Gods, he made a conscious decision to embrace the hope and actually give this great social experiment of Daenerys’s a try.  If her Hand didn’t believe in using this opportunity to find a bride, why would anybody else?

 

A knocking on the door caused him to open his eyes.  Reyna was standing in the door, studying him with a large smile on her face.  “What are you pondering now Lord Hand? I remember that look all too well.” she said in that lilting voice with the slightest trace of a Dornish accent.  

 

“As always I’m trying to figure out exactly how I found myself in the quandary I’m currently in. And I told you to call me Tyrion.”  he said with a smile beckoning her in. He rose from his desk and indicated she should sit with him by the fire.  

 

“No.” she scolded.  “You told me to call you Hugor.” but she smiled and entered just the same.

 

“As you told me call you Reyna.”  he teased back. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed their easy conversation.  He wasn’t sure why or how they had fallen into their brief intense friendship but it had helped dragged him out of his misery in Pentos.

 

“Michael was the only one to call me that.  I missed it, which is why I probably gave that name to you.”  She gave a half smile, and he could see the flicker of sadness that crossed her mind when she thought of her late husband.  “It would please me if you would still use that name.”

 

She moved gracefully across the room and Tyrion wasn’t afraid to admit he admired her figure.  She was very curvaceous and just as beautiful as he remembered.

 

He looked at her when she sat down and they mutually said “So….”  before bursting into laughter. She took a sip of the wine he offered her and indicated that he should talk.

 

“First I must tell you that I am beyond happy to see you again.  Our conversations helped get me through one of the most dark and difficult periods of my life.  And while I may have altered my story to disguise my identity, all of the feelings and sentiments were genuine.”  Tyrion said. “It is very important to me that you know that so we can be friends now as Tyrion Lannister and Loreyna Jordayne.”  He grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze to emphasise the sincerity of his statement.

 

“Tyrion, the feeling is entirely mutual.”  Reyna said. “My grief at losing Michael had consumed me and I didn’t know how much I needed a friend at that time.”  She looked away sadly and took her hand back withdrawing into herself. Tyrion envied that Reyna had such an intense and all encompassing love with her late husband.  But he wondered if a part of her had died along with him when his ship sank in the narrow sea. Some widows and widowers would find love again, and some like his father and lost the ability to love all together. 

 

“The years have been exceedingly kind to you my lady.”  Tyrion complimented her trying to draw her back out. It was true, while she had been beautiful then, without the overwhelming grief dragging her down, she was more radiant. Although truth be told he had only noticed her looks in the most objective sense then.  After his catastrophic relationship with Shae, he found himself unable to look at women the same and had lost all interest in his previous whoremongering, skirt chasing ways. He had met Reyna at the beginning of the celibate phase of his life. While it had been a good change for him, a few years ago at the end of the world, he had felt stirrings for a woman again.  A relationship that would have been impossible under the best of circumstances but when he had even extended the barest tendril of a thought for them, she had shut him down with talk of “divided loyalties.” But he knew the truth of it once she accepted Daenerys’s rule along with Jon’s. It had nothing to do with loyalties divided or not. She didn’t want him,  _ would never want him _ , and he tried to embrace his work, his wine to make the stirrings settle and dissipate.  They never did and he wondered in a brilliant flash of self-realization if that is the root cause of some of the issues he was having now.

 

“Thank you.  When we knew each other I was certainly not my best self.  Time heals all wounds but some...some leave deep and nasty scars.” she said softly.  He knew she wasn’t thinking of her husband then but of her family, her father, in Dorne.  Of the awful assault that had stolen everything from her changing her life in an instant.

 

“Yes, scars that change forever who we are.”  Tyrion agreed thinking of Tysha and Shae. And of course thinking of Sansa and all the scars both mentally and physically she had suffered under multiple men.  Men a husband should have protected her from. No wonder she would never want him, he was a pathetic excuse for a man and a husband. He promised himself if he were to cloak another woman he would never let another living person hurt them as long as there was breath in his body.  He had failed Tysha, he had failed Sansa. He would not fail again.

“I suppose, like me, you have spent the afternoon piecing together the stories we’ve told each other with both the truth and rumors surrounding our true names.”  She inquired gently and reached over to squeeze his hand. “I think part of me knew that my dwarven friend Hugor may have been the infamous Tyrion Lannister. Especially after I had the displeasure of listening to the  _ Imp’s Delight. _   I mean honestly, how many dwarves are forced to marry young maidens to punish and control the girl’s families?”

 

“Please, please don’t ever mention that song around  Lady Sansa. She was sequestered in either the Vale or the North when that song was in high circulation.  Time, bloody wars and a touch of dragonfire seems to have killed it mostly, but I don’t want her to hear it.   She came here a young, dreamy girl wanting her life to be a song, and it did. A terrible, bawdy, humiliating song in which we are both portrayed abysmally.”  Tyrion grimaced.

 

“Words are wind, Tyrion.  We both know that.” Reyna said with a half smile looking him over. “Yet you protect her from even that. You still have a soft spot for her don’t you?”

 

Tyrion winced a little when Reyna said ‘still’.  He couldn’t remember all the details of what he had said about Sansa to Reyna but somehow she had picked up on some of his feelings.  “I completely and utterly failed to protect my young wife from the monsters that harmed her, but she somehow managed to outwit and outlive them all.  Lady Sansa and I were lucky enough to reconnect as equals before the Long Night and have become friends. But given all the misery my family has caused her, and how badly I failed to  _ really  _ protect her, the least I can do is keep a nasty song full of lies from her ears.”  This time it was him that withdrew into his own thoughts. Sansa deserved a song about her strength, her beauty, her wits, not about marrying an old perverted dwarf.

 

“And what have you pieced together about me my lord?”  Reyna asked sensing a need to change the subject. Sipping, she studied her wine suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

 

“Luckily for you, your past has not been twisted and turned into amusement for drunks at taverns.  Honestly, I think most people don’t even know Lord Jordayne has a second daughter.”

 

“Then my father must be very pleased.”  She said bitterly. “But yes, it is better to be forgotten and he has done an admirable job of making sure I am in Dorne.  Before Uncle Selwyn whisked me away, my father was going to send me to the Silent Sisters. Apparently the only thing worse than a despoiled daughter was one that was now barren as a result of it.  He could have dealt with a bastard put in me by one of my attackers, found me a husband of some low rank. But a daughter who’s womb had been ravaged by a whore’s disease? He’d rather I had died. I thank the Gods everyday that Uncle Selwyn kept tabs on me through some servants as he despised my father after his cruel treatment of my mother.  This tall blonde man appeared as if by a miracle into the cottage my father had been hiding us in after the assault with a half dozen knights. I thought I was dreaming him at first but I remembered his kind face from my mother and I’s visits when I was a little girl. My Uncle was only there for me, but I begged him to take poor Michael. He had been seriously wounded trying to protect me and it had festered so badly the maesters had to take his right leg from the knee down on the ship or he would have never survived the journey.  He was only a squire, but he fought valiantly after those monsters killed Ser Russell.”

 

Tyrion’s hands clenched.  He tried to stay focused on Reyna and her pain but he couldn’t help but think of another young woman that had been raped by multiple men in front of his very eyes on his father’s orders.  Reyna’s husband at least had tried to save the woman he loved (if only from a far, he was but a lowly squire at the time) while Tyrion had done nothing but count the silver coins slipping through Tysha’s fingers and listened to the soldier’s cruel laughs.

 

He gathered her hand in his own and spoke to her in a low, gentle tone.  “Your father is a cruel bastard. I had one of my own so I understand how much being discarded as worthless by your  _ family  _ for things beyond your control feels.  Although I do envy, that through all that pain, that you were able to find true love.  Very few get to experience that.” He could feel the pain in his chest at the thought that he would never have the love that Reyna had experienced.  The only romantic love he had experienced was a mummer’s farce as it was all built on lies and he would never be sure if the woman had actually loved him back.  

 

A noise from the hallway caught their attention and they both turned toward the door to see Sansa Stark trying to gather some papers that she had accidentally dropped.  Tyrion found that rather odd as she was the epitome of poise and grace and he had never seen her do anything that remotely, well human to be honest. This thought was still processing in his mind while Reyna, kind and helpful as always, had rushed out in the hall to assist her. 

 

“Thank you Lady Loreyna.  I’m not sure what happened, I’m usually not so clumsy.”  Sansa said in a high strained voice that piqued Tyrion’s ears.  He also noticed her hands had a slight tremor to them as she took the papers pack from Reyna.

 

“I’m so sorry for interrupting, I can come back later if you like.”  Sansa’s voice quavered softly. Tyrion finally approached to study her, worried about her queer behavior.

 

“Don’t worry about in my dear Lady Stark!  I’m sure you have more important things to discuss than Tyrion and I, affairs of state and all.  I will see you both tomorrow.” She said goodnight to them both and left Sansa and Tyrion alone together in the hall.

 

Sansa stared at the departing figure of Reyna lost in some sort of thought.  Her whole stance was drawn and tight like a crossbow and she clutched the papers she had gathered tightly to her chest.

 

“She’s a lovely woman, quite beautiful.”  Sansa finally said quietly in a voice more resembling her normal self.

 

“Loreyna Jordayne is a singular woman.”  Tyrion agreed, looking at her more closely.  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes moist. “Are you alright Sansa?”  he said concerned.

 

“I’m fine my lor--Tyrion.”  she said as they both entered the study and Sansa sat in the chair Reyna had just occupied.

 

Tyrion sighed internally and stroked his beardless chin in frustration wondering if he had been cast back in time by some demonic spell.  Sansa Stark was once again occupying his rooms and thoughts and not sharing a single one of her own with him. However, this time she was no longer his wife or a child and he didn’t have to abide being lied to in his own domain.

 

“Why don’t I believe you?”  Tyrion said somewhat caustically sipping his wine and staring at the fire. 

 

“Are you upset with me?”  Sansa asked without preamble, sitting in the chair Loryena had just so recently occupied.  Curiously she didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on organizing the sheaf of papers in her lap.  

 

“For interrupting our conversation?”  Tyrion asked. He was pretty sure she meant if he was upset with her over the Queen’s request.  But he was feeling petty and he  _ was  _ upset so he was going to make her owe up to it.   “No, nothing that can’t be finished later. Reyna, I mean Lady Loreyna is staying here at the Tower.  We’ll have lots of time to renew our acquaintance.” Tyrion said. Tyrion noticed Sansa’s hands froze during her sorting for a split second at his phrasing.  

 

“You two seem close.”  Sansa said, her tone a polite, heavily veiled accusation.

 

“We were friends.  Are friends, close friends that is”  Tyrion said ignoring the subtext in her tone trying to figure out how she was flipping the conversation so he was the one in the wrong.

 

“Friends that don’t know each other’s real names?”  Sansa said in the same clipped tone now laced with a trace of scorn.

 

“Knowing each other’s true names does not lesson the bond we shared in exile.  I know her better than people I’ve known for years. ” Tyrion said suddenly weary of the whole damn day.  “I have already had an exhausting conversation on the topic with my brother and Ser Bronn, so say your piece Sansa so we can move on.”   He just wanted some damn honestly for once.

 

“Were you lovers?”  Sansa asked with a tightness in her voice that surprised Tyrion as much as the question.  _ (Lovers?? Of course they weren’t lovers.  He was a married man after all. At least he thought he was until he heard his wife had taken another to be her husband.)  _   Years steeped in politics had made it easy for him to mask his true reaction, not that she had looked at him once since she sat down, preoccupied by those damn papers.

 

“No.  We were not.”  He said evenly and only then did she raise her eyes to meet his.  “Don’t you believe men and women can just be friends? Or is that not what we are my lady?”  

 

“Of course we are friends, at least I hope so.”  She paused. “I just wish,” she held his gaze with her beautiful blue eyes and he was once again drowning in her very existence “that my friend would let me know if he was in need of some help.  That he was not feeling himself nor was he caring for himself. Had I known, I would have come sooner.” Sansa said softly.

 

A wave of emotion crashed over him at the thought that she cared so much.  He gave her a wan smile. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t know I’d let it get so bad.  I’ve had...dark... very, very dark times before that I’ve somehow gotten through. But this...this is  _ different. _   I wish I could describe it but I can’t find the words.  Mostly….mostly I just feel hollow.”   

 

Sansa reached out and touched his hand, holding it in her own.  Tyrion sucked in a breath in surprise. It was the first time she had ever reached out to  _ him _ , it had always been  _ him _ to reach for  _ her _ , to comfort  _ her _ .  And suddenly, Tyrion felt a little less hollow, and a lot less alone.

 

They sat like that for awhile, quietly enjoying each other’s company, holding hands.  Surprising himself, Tyrion pulled his hand away and sighed, “I was upset with you, and I think you know why.”

 

Sansa shook her head “I know and I don’t blame you.”  She held up the papers. “I think I’m just going to burn this list Daenerys gave me of the eligible Ladies in attendance.  This whole idea is ludacris.” She started to rise as if to throw the list on the fire but Tyrion stayed her hand remembering the promise he had made to himself earlier.

 

“I think ...I think I might want to give it a try.  If you’ll help me that is.” he said and when he looked in her eyes he wasn’t sure which one of them was more shocked.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse had been an elusive little bitch lately, damn her. That and a lack of free time. Sorry for the delay. Better late than never. (I'm too damn stubborn to quit on a fic FYI. I'll find my muse even if I have to hammer at a chapter until she shows up.) 
> 
> As always comments are beyond appreciated.


	6. A sleepless night

Sansa lay in her bed that night unable to sleep, watching the shadows cast from the full moon slowly move around her room as the hours slipped by.  Her private internal world, where she kept herself guarded and safe from others, had been upended not once, but twice that night. The first instance, of course, had been when she realized that she had feelings for Tyrion.  What does that even mean she wondered? Did she have a crush on him? Was she in love with him? Did she want him in  _ that  _ way? ( Could she, would she _ ever  _ want any man in  _ that _ way?) Would she even know what any of those things felt like in her heart?  A blind man could describe a sunset better than Sansa could know or even understand what she felt.  Frustrated with herself beyond reasoning, she grabbed the pillow and pulled it over her mouth screaming into it while kicking her feet.  The Lady of Winterfell would never lose her composure like this, but now alone in the dead of night she could just be the scared, anxious young woman housed underneath.

 

The only emotion she really understood from the night before was the jealousy she had felt over Tyrion’s close friendship with Lady Loreyna.   Wiping away the hot, angry tears she felt ashamed of how she had acted, interrogating him. Good Gods, she had even asked if they were lovers ( _like it was any of your business anyway an inner voice hissed_ )  Tyrion Lannister was a great man and a better friend that she deserved, “the best of them,”  she thought. It should have come as no surprise that someone else would see those qualities in him too.  Just because he had a close friendship with another woman ( _an unknown beautiful, exotic woman whispered the same voice)_ that did not diminish their friendship.  Or did it? If this is how she felt about his old friend ( _or an old flame hissed the voice)_ how would she deal with his wife?  A wife he now showed an interest in finding?

 

That had been the second blow to her nicely ordered world, when he stopped her from tossing the list in the fire.  The scene replayed itself in her mind.

 

******************************************************************************************************

_ “Are you sure?”  Sansa had asked her heart dropping as she settled back down in the chair.  “You know you are under no obligation, Daenerys said it is ultimately your decision.”  _

 

_ “Yes I’m sure.”  he said in a quiet breath as if he couldn’t believe it himself.  “I’m just tired, so damn tired of being alone. It would be nice to have somebody to share a life, share a home with.”  He stared down at the floor avoiding her gaze before continuing. “I have had lousy luck with women in the past, one’s that I’ve chosen myself to be involved with.  This will be the final time I will put myself out there and I don’t trust my judgement. Please, I’m asking this of you, please help me. There’s nobody I trust more.  And you must admire the ironic symmetry of the whole thing. I need my  _ **_last_ ** _ wife to help me find my  _ **_last_ ** _ wife.”  he chuckled darkly.  _

 

_  Sansa however, found no humor in the whole thing and once again focused on the papers in her lap.  She traced her finger down the neatly ordered script. Ah lists, how she loved lists. Lists of things she had to do that she could mark off one by one, organizing her day, her thoughts, her life.  This list in front of her, she could work with this, focus on it, narrow it down, and give him some names of good, honest, suitable women. They were just scratchings on paper, just words, just names, not feelings.  How could this list hurt her?   _

 

_ “If this is truly what you want.  I will help you.” Sansa said divorcing herself from her feelings. If there was anything she was good at it was hiding her true self behind a protective facade.  “But it would help if you could give me a list of criteria, things you would desire in a wife.” Sansa walked to Tyrion’s desk, grabbing a quill and paper. _

 

_ “Criteria?” Tyrion said.  “Sounds so methodical.” _

 

_ “We are going to need a method if we are going to refine this”  Sansa said shaking the list “into a manageable amount of women you can actually talk to over the next few weeks.” _

 

_ Sansa grabbed the quill and said in a business like tone “So what attributes would you look for in a wife?”  all the while knowing she didn’t quite want to hear the answer.   _

 

_ Tyrion said nothing for a good long time, staring at the fire, his cup, and the ceiling before his warm eyes settled ultimately on her.  “Clever, she must be clever. And strong, strong enough to stand up to me, tell me things I might not want to hear. The last thing I want is a wilting flower.  A quick wit too, I want somebody to laugh with.” He paused once more. “A woman who is kind and warm. Even in this reign of peace, politics is a cutting, cold place.  My home should not be that as well.” _

 

_ A tremendous wave of guilt crashed over Sansa.  She couldn't help but think Tyrion spoke of their own rooms he had studiously avoided during their brief marriage.  Fear, grief, and anger had been her constant companions and thus his as well. “While those are admirable qualities in any person, I think I need more of a general picture.  Age, looks, etc. Sadly Vary’s notes don’t list categorically how witty and warm these women are.” Sansa said dryly.  _

 

_ He chuckled slightly, sighed and again studied his wine cup for awhile.  “No young maidens.” He paused for a beat and she wondered if she noticed her face becoming flushed.   “A lady closer to my own age would be preferable, a widow from the wars perhaps?” _

 

_ “But not too old, correct?”  Sansa said feeling a little bit of a sting at the ‘young maidens’ remark.  He hadn’t wanted to be saddled with a young maiden then, why would he want one now.  “Women past a certain age may not be able to provide you with an heir.” Her mind clamped down and dismissed the brief but painful image of Tyrion looking adoringly at a woman rounded with his child.  The fact that the woman in her mind may have had a passing resemblance to the beauty that just occupied her seat deepened the sting. _

 

_ “That matters not to me.  But if she does want children, she must be aware that any child I sire has a good chance of being a dwarf too.” he said with a tinge of sadness.  “With knowledge of that, she may not want to take that risk.” _

 

_ “Do not be so hard on my sex, my Lord.  Good parents love their children above all and this kind, warm wife you seek should love your child, dwarf or not or she is not acceptable and I shall strike her from this list.”  Sansa said vehemently. _

 

_ “As you wish my Lady.  I shall trust your judgment in this manner as I was never given a chance to experience a mother’s love for her children.” he said wistfully. _

 

_ A lump in her throat and with thoughts of her own mother churning in her head (what would Lady Catelyn think on your feelings for this Lannister said the increasingly annoying inner voice), she changed the subject.  “What about looks? Do you prefer blondes, brunettes, short, tall, thin, plump?” (you didn’t mention redheads says the inner voice) Sansa queeried, writing on her list. _

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

_ “Yes?  What does that mean?”  Sansa asked in exacerbation. _

 

_ “Yes means that I prefer all of those things.  If you can find a clever, strong, witty, and kind woman who can find some redeeming qualities in me, I'll find her attractive in whatever package she was born into.” _

 

_ “This still is not very helpful.”  Sansa sighed. “Perhaps some more practical things.  I can’t imagine the Queen would want you to marry somebody who will take you away from King’s Landing? Or you would want a long distance marriage?”   _

 

_ Tyrion held her eyes and smiled warmly.  “No, I would not want a long distance marriage.  It is the closeness and domesticity of everyday life that build a marriage.”  Sansa thought of her parents and how they built their marriage slowly ‘stone by stone’ like her mother always said. _

 

_ “And I presume you’re correct about the Queen’s desires.  The Hand should be in the capitol to serve at her Grace’s leisure.”  Tyrion said in a surprisingly flat tone. If Sansa hadn’t known him so well, knew how much he loved being Hand, she could almost hear regret in his voice.  But regret for what? _

 

_ Sansa took a sip of her wine then, trying to hide her inner turmoil.  This was the crux of why they would never and could never have anymore of a relationship than they did at present despite these newly recognized feelings she might have for him.  His loyalty would always be first and foremost to his position in the court, to Daenerys and Jon, while hers would be to the North. Their loyalties would be forever divided even though they served the same King and Queen.   _

 

_ “I guess that’s a start.”  she said thickly. _

 

_ “What about you Sansa?”  Tyrion asked gently. “What would you desire in a husband?” _

 

_ I want what my father promised me she thought.  A man that’s brave and gentle and strong. But instead she said “I do not desire one at all.” _

 

Only later that night in the privacy of her room did she start to think that may have been a lie.

 

_ ******************************************************************************************************** _

 

Across the Red Keep, Tyrion unlike Sansa had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted both physically and mentally by the events of the day. And while she was ruminating on their conversation, Tyrion was transported in his dream to a place he had not thought of in years but had spent far too much money and wasted far too much time.

 

_ Everywhere he looked in the cavernous, round room, was a whore.  He was very familiar with the selection room, where the client would be shown various girls to share his bed for the evening by the proprietor of a brothel, but the sheer number of women here was mind boggling.  Women of every creed, skin and hair color crowded the room. There were fat women with huge breasts larger than his head and slim women who had tiny teats that he could fit the whole of in his mouth. The whores examined him closely, some of them with large eyes of fake doe eyed innocence, while others looked as if they would eat him alive and he’d thank them for the pleasure. _

 

_ “Do you see any that pleases you my Lord?”  asked a familiar voice. He tilted his head up to see the red-haired beauty, Ros, standing by his side.  He turned his head back to look at all the whores again only this time noticing that some of the looked familiar...no, no  _ **_all_ ** _ of them looked familiar.  He recognized the first whore he had from the brothel in Lannisport, tall, blonde and giggly--as far from Tysha in looks as he could manage.  In the corner he saw the short plump raven haired twins who had entertained him for a full day and night, introducing him to multiple partners.  In the front were the three experienced whores who had taught him the art of pleasing a woman in bed when he expressed the desire to learn. He remembered the first time he had experienced one of them clench around his cock, crying out in pleasure.  The sensation was better than his own release that had followed shortly afterwards. _

 

_ Looking around, it slowly dawned on Tyrion that this was them---all of them.  Every single woman he had fucked. And not a one of them he hadn’t paid. Upset he started to back up and turn down a side hall to escape the strange cavernous round room.  He didn’t want that to be his life anymore, to pay for fake love, to be a whoremongerer. _

 

_ Trying to flee the ghosts of his past, he wrenched open the first door he found in the hallway to see a dozen soldiers in Lannister red standing around a bloodied bed upon which a young woman was whimpering in pain.  Tysha turned her head to see him, crying out for him to help her and he moved to rush forward to save her this time. Suddenly, Ros clamped her hand on his shoulder pulling him out of the room, slamming the door shut.  “That one will cost you a gold dragon.” she said, “but she had many more clients to entertain before she can see you.” _

 

_ Desperate to escape, he opened the next door to find himself in the Tower of the Hand.  His father sat in his desk chair while Shae wearing nothing but chains of gold lounged on his desk.  She turned to Tywin “My lion, there is a creature here to see you.” her voice dripping with scorn. When Shae turned back to look at Tyrion, her face was purple and the chains were twisted tightly around her neck.  Tywin barely acknowledged him, “If he were my son, I would have drowned him in the ocean as a babe. Luckily,” he said finally looking Tyrion dead in the eye “he is no son of mine.” _

 

_ Choking on rage, Tyrion rushed forward to confront them both only to be again be pulled out of the room by Ros.  This time he noticed she had blood on her dress and a half dozen quarrels sticking out of her body. “I’m sorry none of the ladies please you my Lord,  I’d take care of you myself but King Joffrey has made that impossible.” she said and he noticed how dead her eyes looked. _

 

_ He ran as fast as his short legs would allow, back to the central room, which was now empty of all of Tyrion’s former bedmates.  Looking around he was able to recognize the room was actually the Great Sept of Baelor. He stood on one side between the Mother and the Father, in his wedding finery holding a cloak of Lannister Red.  Suddenly, on the opposite side of the Sept he saw Sansa Stark, resplendent in her golden wedding gown, framed by the light of the open doors in a repeat of their nuptials all those years ago. _

 

_ Sansa trembled like a frightened deer as three golden lions surrounded her chuffing and growling loudly.  Tyrion raced across the sept trying to reach her, the floor going on for miles. He finally reached the steps to climb up to her and found his stunted legs too small to surmount them.  He watched helplessly as the younger male lion mauled her causing long red welts to appear on her ivory skin. “Sansa!” he screamed, attracting the attention of the other two lions. While they started down the steps towards him, a figure appeared next to Sansa.  Petyr Baelish gave him a smarmy smile before lowering a crossbow and shooting the young lion in the eye. The young lion’s screams cause the other two to turn their heads while Baelish yelled “He killed the King!” and Tyrion found the crossbow in his hands. _

 

_ The lions rushed him growling loudly and started dragging him away by his legs, while Baelish ushered Sansa out the open Sept door.  “Unhand my wife!” Tyrion screamed at him. _

 

_ Turning to face him as he was closing the doors, Baelish leered at him.  “Oh you foolish little man! She was never your wife. But soon...soon she will be his.”  The slamming of the doors was punctuated by the loud, pain filled screams of Sansa in the distance. _

 

_ **************************************************************************************************** _

 

Tyrion woke in a cold sweat, throwing the covers off of him.  Heart pounding and shivering he slipped from his bed looking for some wine to quell the demons in his mind.  His thoughts dwelled on the dream and he hoped it was not an ill portent of things to come. Pondering this, he tried to quiet Sansa’s screams of pain in his mind, all the while wondering if he was truly ready to have any sort of relationship with a woman again and even if he did-- would he ever stop dreaming of Sansa Stark?

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I humbly offer an apology to my muse I said bad things about last chapter, because all of my lovely readers, fellow authors and other content creators for my OTP are my muse as much as the whispers in my brain.
> 
> The only bitch around here is me for my excuses. **sigh**
> 
> Comments make me happy.


	7. Opening night

Sansa regarded herself in the looking glass the night of the opening feast wondering how her heart was going to endure the next six weeks.  How was she going to sit there day and night and watch as Tyrion used his charms and wit to find a new bride? How could she chat with these ladies, smile and nod pleasantly, and try to discern their true motivations when she wasn’t sure she wanted him to ever marry?  This evening, let alone the whole summit hadn’t even started yet and she couldn’t wait for it to be over. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her dress to find the list tucked in there. It would be alright she thought, just focus on the list, be distant, be objective.  You want him to be happy don’t you? This was a task assigned to her by the Queen and her Hand. She had survived men that were monsters and monsters that had been men. What was a little heartache compared to that? She could do this, she was a wolf, she was strong. ( _ You are a lone wolf  _ said the voice that had become her constant companion. _   Jon is a dragon, Bran is a raven, and Arya is the wind.  You are alone, you will  _ **_always_ ** _ be alone.  And lone wolves do not survive.) _

 

Ignoring the voice, Sansa admired her new formal dress.  It was a soft gray with white dire wolves embroidered on the bodice.  With spring arriving and the war over, she was making a conscious effort to stop dressing in dark colors and dresses that resembled armor.  Her chain and needle necklace were also gone, tucked into a box in her dresser in Winterfell next to a certain gold and ruby ring, both pieces of her past but ones that she didn’t wish to part with.

 

The only ornament she chose to wear were a few hair clips shaped like trout crusted with rubies and sapphires that had belonged to her Tully grandmother.  Touching her neck sadly, she once again missed her dragonfly necklace that had been a name day gift from her father. When she had fled King’s Landing, it had not been on her as the poisoned jeweled necklace had adorned her throat that day.  She wondered what happened to it, what had happened to all of her things, well both her and Tyrion’s things after that fateful day. Was it one of the maid’s priceless possessions now or mouldering away in some trunk in the bowels of the keep?   Willing away memories of the day she fled, of Petyr’s self satisfied smirk on the boat, of Circie’s screams, of the last lingering touch of her fingers to Tyrion’s on the goblet, she grabbed her newest accessory a parting gift from Arya.

 

She touched the tip of the stiletto knife and was satisfied with its wicked sharpness as a small drop of blood welled on the end of her finger.  Sansa had objected to it at first, but Arya reminder her that even their Lady Mother carried a dagger on the road. Arya taught her how to flick it out in seconds, and how to keep it hidden in her sleeve, and that a man’s groin was his most vulnerable spot.  Sansa knew she had Pod, had guards, and most of the knights of the Seven Kingdoms surrounding her tonight but she still felt it best to arm herself. She had learned the hard way that you were never really safe. A few months ago at the Vale, she had found herself alone and trapped by a young, handsome, and drunken Lord who after having wandering hands during their dancing, decided he wanted more.  Finding her alone, he had cornered her for an aggressive and most unwanted kiss but luckily, they had been interrupted and Sansa had escaped before it got much further. With shaking knees she ran to her room, and cried herself to sleep that night wondering if there was something wrong with her that just attracted this type of man no matter where she went. If so, she would be armed from now on and would not feel bad about gelding the next man who touched her.

 

Pod knocked on the door, ready to escort her to the feast and with a final steadying breath, she cloaked herself in her armor of courtesy and ice.  Duty called, and the Lady of Winterfell must answer regardless of the feelings of Sansa Stark.

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

They met with the Lannister party outside the great hall where the feast was being held along with Gendry Baratheon, Ser Davos, and his wife Marya who had just arrived from Storm’s End.  While Ser Davos was technically Hand of the King, he had been spending the majority of his time these last years helping unite and stabilize the Stormlands under Lord Gendry. Sansa was pleased to see Gendry admiring the lovely Joy Lannister and was even happier when she saw Podrick ask to escort her inside sending a clear message to the smith-turned-Lord.  “Good”, Sansa thought. If appeared Gendry may be more than ready to move on and perhaps Sansa need not bring up his relationship with her sister at all.

 

The married couples, along with Podrick and Joy, entered and were announced first by the Herald, while Sansa, Tyrion, Gendry and Loreyna were left to figure out which Lord should escort which Lady.

 

“My Lords, my Ladies, whom shall I announce next?”  asked the Herald with growing impatience as the line lengthened behind them.

 

“I will escort Lady Sansa.”  announced Gendry and Sansa nodded her head in acquiescence while feeling a touch dismayed that she would not have an excuse to be near Tyrion.

 

“I guess that makes more sense as Lady Loreyna’s height is a better match for my own.”  Tyrion said. Reyna wrapped her hand around his upper arm in a movement that looked far too natural and easy for Sansa’s liking.  The increasingly familiar feeling of jealousy filled Sansa’s gut and she let out a slight sigh knowing it was only going to get worse until she could bury these new feelings.

 

Tyrion addressed the Herald  “Lady Loreyna Jo--” he looked at Loreyna’s slight head shake.  “Lady Loreyna of Tarth, acting Lady of Evenfall Hall escorted by Lord Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen.”  He was rewarded with a beatific smile and a shoulder squeeze from the Lady. Sansa’s curiosity was piqued by Loreyna’s desire to drop her surname and she promised herself to find out some more about this mysterious stranger that was becoming very close with her former husband.  This is what she was supposed to do right? Make sure of the intentions of any women involved with the Hand?

 

Just then Gendry whispered to her, “Sorry my Lady for not consulting with you.  It’s just that I’m here to find a bride,” he stammered and blushed shyly and with that Sansa could see what had made Arya drawn to him, “and if I’m seen escorting the attractive, single niece of one of my bannerman, assumptions may be made.”

 

“Conclusions that won’t be made with me?”  Sansa teased.

 

Gendry blanched,  “Lady Sansa, it’s not that you’re not beautiful, quite the contrary.  Your beauty is known throughout the Seven Kingdoms and some say not even our Queen can rival you.  It’s just…” he rubbed his hand through his hair, and looked flustered and somewhat adorable in a goofy Podrick sort of way. “There’s ummmm history you know, between our...families that is well known.”

 

“I know.” Sans said softly conveying to him with a look that she understood his unspoken words.  Most of the realm knew that the Stark woman that he had desired to wed was not her. Sansa glanced at the couple ahead of them and sighed wistfully.  “Lady Loreyna is very beautiful.” Sansa conceded, watching them move handsomely across the floor and noticing to her surprise the sheer number of women that were eyeing Tyrion as if they were at a horse auction and he was going through his paces.  This all caused her stomach to churn and she reached down to finger the list in her pocket again as if it was a talisman that might quell her inner turmoil.

 

“But she lacks the wild beauty of the North that you Stark women have in spades.” he said with a lopsided smile with a tinge of sadness.  Sansa slipped her arm in his and bid the Herald to announce them. Gods help her, she liked this man and she would help him find a suitable wife.  She believed Arya had loved him in her own way and would want him to be happy.

 

They joined the rest of their party and watched as several more Lords and Ladies were announced, including her Aunt and Uncle and her cousin Robin Arryn, who’s chiseled face and lean form turned the heads of almost all the young ladies in the hall.  Sansa grimaced for the fate of whatever woman took him on as a husband. It was fortunate indeed he had grown into a handsome man as his personality was still that of spoiled, whiny little boy.

 

Sansa’s hand curled and tightened on Gendry’s bicep as she noticed a familiar handsome face with sandy blonde hair in her cousin’s entourage.  It was the same man that had forced his undesirable kisses upon her a few moons ago, Harrold Hardyng, Robyn’s cousin and current heir.

 

Gendry noticed, following her eyes and whispered in her ear.  “Hardyng? Is there an issue?”

 

“Yes, he thinks he’s the Gods gift to women and doesn’t understand when a woman tells him no.” she whispered while feeling for her stiletto and moving unconsciously closer to Gendry.  A frown darkened his face as the meaning of her words sank in and he moved his arm not linked with hers to cover her hand and forearm in a protective move that reminded her very much of Jon.

 

Sansa was even more grateful for Gendry’s support, both physically and mentally,  a moment later when Lord Bronn of the Blackwater entered the hall with the ghost of Margaery Tyrell on his arm and Sansa’s knees gave out.

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

His entire life Tyrion had been stared at--his own one man freak show.  He was use to heads turning as he entered the room. Crowds were always curious to see the Imp, the demon monkey, to chitter at his awkward gate, to whisper and mock him behind their hands or sometimes to his face.  Tyrion was used to that sort of derision. But this...this was strange. At first, he assumed the eyes on him as he entered the Grand Hall were more of the same. But then he noticed that many of the women’s glances were of an appraising manner, as if they were trying to decide his worth and value to them.  At another time in his life, he would have found this oh-so-so flattering but now it just made him uneasy. He wondered if this is what a woman, especially a stunning woman like Sansa ( _ and of course his first thought was of her)  _ felt like all the time.

 

A cold sweat had started to form under his collar and he was happy when they finally reached his brother’s side and did his best to blend in and avoid the crowds stares. He closed his eyes and took a  deep breath, reminding himself that he had agreed to his matchmaking nonsense and that  _ of course  _ the Ladies would be looking him over as much as he was evaluating them.

 

 Any self pep talk was instantly forgotten the minute he opened his eyes and saw the striking pair of Lord Gendry and Lady Sansa striding across the hall looking like the flesh and blood embodiment of the Smith and the Maiden.  There was no hiding Gendry’s physique, even in his fine Lord’s clothes. His arms were heavily muscled from years at the forge, and his features were a pleasing blend of a very young Robert and his Uncle Renly who had always been swooned over by the ladies despite his lack of interest in their charms.  Sansa of course was nothing short of perfection. Lady Catelynn had always been praised as a beauty, but Sansa, oh sweet, lovely Sansa, there were no words to describe her adequately. Maybe a song he thought, maybe a thousand songs and tenfold more poems might be able to do her justice. But he doubted it as his heart clenched painfully, as her radiance eclipsed every other woman in the room a million times over.

 

Sansa and Gendry moved to the other side of Jamie and Brienne and Tyrion could see Sansa’s  slender fingers curling around the bulging bicep of the Lord of Storm’s End. He continued to watch them out of the corner of his eye while pretending to pay attention to who else was arriving.  He bristled at Robin Arryn’s dismissive smirk in his direction. Intellectually, he knew he should forgive the young man’s behavior as a child. But in his case it was really hard as Lord Arryn had never matured mentally into an adult that felt chagrined about their bad behavior when young.  

 

As the Lords of the Vale walked by, he saw Sansa’s fingers tighten on Gendry’s arm and he leaned over to whisper in her ear.  Whatever her response was to his inquiry, his face looked stony and he held her more tightly to himself. But Tyrion was unable to tell if it was in a protective or possessive manner or both?  Was Gendry interested in Sansa after Arya had rebuffed him? Those Baratheon men were well known to be rather obsessed with the Stark women, in fact this whole country was still recovering from the last time.   While trying to stifle his jealousy, he tried to remember anything from the letters Sansa and he had exchanged during her time in the Vale and shortly after. He couldn’t remember anything specific, but he knew she had been unhappy and her letters to him had been short, impersonal or worst yet nonexistent for a good time afterwards.  Looking back, it was clear  _ something  _ had happened in the Vale and if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own depression he would have figured this out sooner.  Had she had a romantic liaison with one of the Vale Lords that ended poorly? Is that why Gendry was glaring at their retreating forms? 

 

With all these thoughts churning through his head, he barely noticed Bronn and his wife’s entry until he heard the gasp from the members of the crowd who still remembered the beloved former Queen.  It was one thing to be told that Lady Jenna resembled her late half-sister, but seeing her in person---it was mind boggling to say the least. Realizing that this was the first time Sansa would see her, he reacted without thinking moving swiftly to her side.  He reached her just in time to steady her on her left while Gendry braced her on her right as her knees buckled and she swayed imperceptibly.   

 

Sansa murmured under her breath.  “Am I awake? Or is this a strange dream?”  

 

“This is no dream my lady.”  Tyrion said clasping the hand that was holding tightly to his shoulder for support.  “I had a similar reaction to yours when I met her before their wedding. But I wasn’t nearly as close as you were to Margaery so I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

 

Sansa said nothing for a few moments, studying the woman that could be her late friends twin.  “I would like to meet her.” Sansa said moving her hand from his shoulder but still holding his tightly.   

 

“I know she’s looked forward to meeting you for ages.  Of everybody living, you probably knew her sister the most intimately.”  Tyrion said squeezing her hand and leading her towards the Lord and Lady of Highgarden.  They started to walk away and Gendry followed much to Tyrion’s displeasure and he started to think his thoughts about him being interested in Sansa were true.  “Of course my Lord Gendry you are welcome to join us.” Tyrion said although he didn’t mean a word of it.

 

Gendry started realizing that he had forgotten some of his newly impressed upon manners.  “Sorry, my Lord. I didn’t mean to invite myself, but I need to know…” his face flushed and he bent over closer to speak in hushed tones with Tyrion.  “Who is that vision of loveliness standing with Ser Bronn and his wife?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gendry is most definitely ready to move on. ;) Sorry/not sorry Gendarya shippers
> 
>  
> 
> Comments as always make might heart sing. <3


	8. Never wanted her to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Pod sang Jenny of the Oldstones and I was convinced he was going to die?
> 
> Good times. You know before season 8 ran off the rails.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eTa1jHk1Lxc

After the feast, Sansa and Tyrion sat in quiet harmony by the fire in his study.  It almost felt domestic and she could easily picture herself spending evenings like this with him stitching her embroidery as he read, perhaps even aloud to her.  But instead of her beloved sewing, she currently held the thrice-damned list that would be the end to those dreams in her lap. They had discussed meeting after the big social events, so he could give her feedback on any of the women he had met that night.  To see if there were any he might be wanting to see again in a smaller more intimate sitting and for Sansa to inquire about. Conversations that she was dreading.

 

Not wanting to prolong her agony, Sansa started reading some of the names of the Ladies he had talked to, most of whom were there with Lady Jenna.  Sansa had only spoken to her briefly, and superficially, but they had agreed to meet for tea tomorrow and she was very much looking forward to it.

 

Tyrion dismissed her list reading with a wave of his hand and remarked, “I’m not interested in any of Lady Jenna’s retinue.  The lot of them either seemed like young silly maidens or succubi that will break a husband and mold them to their will. I am interested in neither.”

 

“Give me the names of the succubi and I shall be sure to direct them to my dear sweet cousin.”  Sansa said with a rueful smile causing Tyrion to choke on his wine in a fit of laughter.

 

“Lady Sansa!”  Tyrion exclaimed in a teasing tone, much as he had sounded the day she told him about sheep shifting in the garden.

 

“No truly!”  Sansa said earnestly.  “Our Queen would like to see a powerful woman in the Vale.  She had asked for any help turning Robin’s head toward an appropriate bride.”

 

He pouted in a mocking manner “So you’re not just here to guide me on this foolish endeavor?”

 

“Foolish? I don’t recall that being what you said last night.”  Sansa said more seriously, remembering how he had pleaded with her for help as her heart ached.

 

“I spent the whole of the evening talking with many Ladies, and the only ones worth any of my time were my family, my Queen, my former wife, and Reyna, of course.  Don’t fret, I’m still willing to try but I’m starting to doubt that this is the best way for me to find a wife.” He gave her a lopsided smile in apology.

 

Sansa did not like the  _ of course  _ he said when speaking of Reyna _.   _ She sighed in frustration at her jealousy again and realized Tyrion took that as exasperation with his wavering desire to take a wife.  She smiled at him reassuringly, “As I said last night, this is for you. If you choose to marry or not makes no difference to me.” ( **_LIAR!!!_ ** _ screamed the voice _ )  “I just wish for you to be happy, to feel whole again and less alone.”   Taking a gulp of wine, she changed the subject. “As for Daenerys and her marriage schemes, aside from you and Robin she also wanted me to speak with Gendry.  There are some that believe that he is still in love with my sister.”

 

“I doubt that very much after what transpired tonight.”  Tyrion said with a chuckle.

 

“Agreed.  The Lady Talla Tarly is lovely and sweet.”  Sansa said with a meaningful glimpse in her eye.

 

“Yes, she is.  Kind and friendly like her brother and blessed with her mother's looks.  I don’t see a hint of Randyll in her either, thank the Gods.” He took a sip of his wine and gave her a wide smile.  “But I don’t think her last name will be Tarly for much longer given what we just witnessed.” They shared a smile at the remembrance of the evening.

 

_ As a child it was no secret that Sansa loved tales of love.  She loved songs of tall, handsome Lords and the beautiful Ladies they would save because they fell in love in their first meaningful glimpse of the other.  That was love to the girl Sansa was and she could not be dissuaded by her mother that was not the norm. That marriages were work and hard and that love only came with time and effort.  After the Lannisters had stolen the rest of her childhood, and Ramsey the rest of her innocence she no longer believed much in love at all. Although lately, lately ...she thought of it more and more. _

 

_ As for love at first sight, she had dismissed it out right as a fairy tale trope.  That was until she heard Gendry Baratheon’s sharp intake of breath and wide eyed, longing stare at the pretty girl with the huge smile who stood with the Lord and Lady of Highgarden.  She was a few years younger than Sansa and had a pleasing face and body, but it was her smile and the sheer joy that radiated off her that drew you to her. _

 

_ She had heard Gendry ask Tyrion if he knew her name, but he did not.  Fortunately for Gendry, Lady Loreyna as well as the rest of the Lannister party followed right behind them and the girl shouted in glee “Loreyna!” and flung herself into the older woman’s arms much to their surprise. _

 

_ “Oh Talla, it is good to see you again!  Evenfall Hall has been a much, much duller place since you and your Lady mother returned to Horn Hill.”  Reyna said with happiness. _

 

_ “Both you and Lord Selwyn were so kind to shelter us at Tarth...after….” Talla’s eyes held a hint of fear and sadness.  In that single breath of dragonfire , Queen Daenerys had forever changed young Talla’s life. Sansa immediately understood the situation,  her father and brother’s death (and with Sam pledged to the Nightwatch) along with the sacking of Highgarden and extinction of the Tyrells, created a power vacuum in the Reach and a marriage to either the newly widowed Lady Melessa or her daughter would be a way to try to gain control.  It was the exact same reason she had found herself married to both Tyrion and Ramsey. Her name, her claim to the North was all she was wanted for, not her-not just Sansa. But now the North was hers, and no man would rule it in her name. _

 

_ It was at this point that Lady Brienne had stood forward and introduced herself to Lady Talla.  “My father always spoke fondly of Lady Melessa from his time being fostered by your grandfather at Brightwater Keep.  From his letters, I know he was thrilled to have you both in our home even if it was under less than ideal circumstances.” _

 

_ “Your father is truly the best of men.  I think he kept my mother from losing her mind with grief for Dickon and he made sure my engagement to Symun Fossoway was called off when I told him I never agreed to it.  My father was cruel and cold and until I spent time with Lord Selwyn, I never knew what it was like to be cared for by a chivalrous, kind, and giving man. I envy you and your cousin for your relationship with him.”  Lady Talla said with genuine warmth. “I think that after Gilly brings the latest Tarley safely into this world, my mother will take up Lord Selwyn’s offer of a return visit to Tarth. I genuinely hope for both of their sakes that the offer is extended indefinitely if you understand my meaning.  I would like to see my mother happy with a good man she respects and cares for.” _

 

_ Brienne turned to Loreyna “What do you know of this cousin?” she asked with a somewhat shocked smile. _

 

_ “Like his daughter, my Uncle keeps his feelings very close to his chest.  However, he was even more unbearable than usual in the months after you left.”  Loreyna said with a smile to Talla. “He also was very insistent on visiting Horn Hill in person last year to negotiate trade with the Lord of the Reach despite rarely venturing off Tarth in the past decade.”  _

 

_ “I think my mother had a dozen new dresses made for that particular visit!”  Talla laughed. _

 

 _Lady Loreyna had then proceeded to introduce the rest of their party and when Talla’s eyes finally landed on Gendry Baratheon, Sansa could see the exact same intake of breath and wide eyed longing stare that she had just seen on Gendry_.  _They both shared this look of awe and wonder as if they had both seen the endless expanse of the ocean for the first time._ _When he extended his hand to introduce himself and they finally touched, Sansa had to stifle a smile as she half expected a song to start playing or a chorus of doves to appear.  The romantic in Sansa felt privileged to see such a story play out in front of her, but the romantic also wished it had its own love story to tell. Perhaps there was some of that girl left in Sansa after all._

 

Coming back to the present, Sansa could see Tyrion shifting slightly, as if uncomfortable in his seat,  “I do confess I thought that perhaps he was interested in you when he insisted on escorting you into the hall.  It would be a good match and your father would have been pleased for his daughter to marry the true son of his dear friend Robert.”  Sansa was surprised by this and tried to read more into his expression, but found his eyes avoiding her own for some reason.

 

Sansa scoffed, “I think he’d be less pleased if he knew I was that man’s second choice after he defiled my younger sister even if she was the instigator.  Plus, I could never marry and leave Winterfell for Storm’s End or anywhere for that matter. My duty, my loyalty, binds me to my home and any husband of mine would be bound to it as well.  It would be a great sacrifice for any man to bear, to give up what he has to be by my side. Fortunately, I will never marry again so I will never ask a man to choose between his duty and my own.”  She paused, “As for Gendry, his desire to escort me had more to do with Lady Loreyna belonging to the household of his bannerman and not wanting to send the wrong message. And personally, I feel nothing but friendship for the Lord of Storm’s End.  He’s a decent sort, but not my type.” ( _ too tall and not nearly clever enough whispered the voice mockingly) _

 

“Tall, muscular, with dark thick hair and piercing blue eyes is not your type?”  Tyrion laughed. “I think you may be the only single woman in Westeros to think that.”

 

“Much as we discussed with your possible brides, I do not know if I have a physical type.”  Sansa said thinking of her conversation with Margaery all those years ago when she had first been betrothed to Tyrion.  “However, my personality, my mind, and my tongue, have all been forged and honed by my past to that of a sharp Valyrian steel sword and it would take a man with similar traits as I to parry with me.  I’d cut through men like Gendry as if they carried a wooden training sword making us both miserable.”

 

Tyrion just smiled at her, “You are a formidable woman Lady Stark.” he said as he toasted her.  They sat for a few minutes in silence and Sansa hoped the heat from the fire hid the blush that arose from his compliment.

 

“Will Ser Davos return with Lord Gendry to Storm’s End?”  Sansa inquired.

 

“No.  Davos’s job was to help unify the bannerman under Gendry and reorganize the Stormlands and he has done an admirable job of it.  After the Summit, he will return to his position as King’s Hand, although there may be a rearrangement made on the small council to shift positions.”

 

“How so?” asked Sansa.

 

“We have never had a co-regents reign in Westeros before so it was believed that both the Queen and King needed their own Hand.  I have been acting as both of their Hands basically since the start of their rule so we don’t know if both are needed in that role.  It may be that one of us take up an open position on the small council, or Davos decides to retire to a quiet living with his lovely wife, or perhaps I will shock them all and become a vagabond mooching off my brother and traveling the world if this whole”  he gestures at Sansa’s list “wife thing doesn’t work out,” he said with a sardonic smile.

 

“Vagabonds that are friends to the North are always welcome in Winterfell, although I will put them to work to earn their keep.”  Sansa said in a japing tone. “I understand that you were once master of coin for the realm, perhaps I could use your knowledge there.”

 

“That was not a job that I enjoyed in the slightest at the time, but as a vagabond I will do as the Lady of the North commands.”  he said in mock seriousness.

 

“I wasn’t aware you hated it so.” said Sansa seriously.  “It seemed that you were always at work as you spent little time in our chambers.”

 

“Sansa,” he said his voice reverberating deeply and his eyes looking soft enough she wanted to melt into them,  “that was not because I wanted to work, it was because I was trying to spare you my company.”

 

Sansa’s face flushed in shame. “I appreciated your consideration, but in hindsight I wish I had accepted your company and friendship more readily.  When I reflect upon it you, Margaery, and Shae were my only true friends during that period.” As soon as she said Shae’s name she saw the storm clouds gather in Tyrion’s eyes and instantly regretted her words.  But there was a part of her that didn’t. They had tiptoed around this area of their marriage for so long and she knew it was something that needed to be aired between them.

 

Her new found feelings for him gave her the strength to be somewhat reckless and bold so she decided to pursue the matter.  “I wish one or both of you would have told me about the true nature of your relationship. It may have changed things for all of us, and I truly would not have cared.” ( _ Yes at that time but what about later?  queried the pesky voice. _ )

 

“I would.”  said Tyrion quietly, not looking at her again.

 

“You would what?”  asked Sansa.

 

“I would have cared.”  Tyrion said meeting her eye.  “I took my vows seriously in the Sept.  I would not disgrace you that way. I would not add adulterer to my list of sinful titles.  So nothing would have changed. If I had made her go sooner, maybe, but I was weak and still loved her even if we couldn’t be together.  But I was a great fool, she never loved me as I did her or she never would have falsely testified against us both.”

 

“I’m sorry.”  Sansa whispered softly. She reached for his hand which he tried to pull from her but she held on tightly.

 

“I never meant to hurt her, I didn’t even know she was there.  My father, him yes, I went to confront him, kill him. But her, no, I never, but there was a struggle, her or me.  I fought, I fought and I won. I won the image of my lover, dead at my hands to haunt my dreams.” he said haltingly through a clenched jaw his eyes watering.

 

He looked straight at her, his eyes burning coals of anger and hatred and she knew it was all for himself. “I am a murderer.”

 

Sansa looked straight at him holding his gaze “As am I.  Do you think I held a trial for Ramsey for all I suffered at his hands?  No. Do you know what I did to him? I fed him to his hounds alive and screaming... _ and I watched.”  _

 

She tried to soften her face from the anger still etched in it when she thought of Ramsey before continuing.  “Tyrion, none of us escaped the wars unscathed, most of us have blood-- some innocent, some not on our hands. All we can do is try to do better as penance, to make a better world for those of us left and the future generations to come.  I am glad for one that you are still here, still trying _.   _ We are all better off for it.”  Sansa leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek still feeling bold.  She rose then suddenly wondering if she had acted too impetuously and afraid she may say or do something that she would regret if she stayed longer.

 

“Goodnight Tyrion.  I will see you in the morning.”

 

“Goodnight Sansa, and thank you.  Thank you for everything.” he said with emotion in his voice.

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

As Tyrion finished his wine that night his cheek still burning from where Sansa kissed him, he found himself humming the Jenny of the Oldstones song that Podrick had so hauntingly sung the night before the dead came.  It was only when he finally laid down to bed he realized it was because he was thinking of Duncan Targaryen, a man who gave up his claim to the Iron throne, to be with Jenny, the woman he loved. A man in Tyrion’s mind who had his priorities straight.  After he abdicate his claim, Duncan, the Prince of Dragonstone, was henceforth known as the Prince of Dragonflies.

 

As Tyrion drifted off to sleep, he envisioned Sansa Stark dancing with her ghosts through the crumbling walls of his mind with a dragonfly necklace draped around her astoundingly long neck.   And Gods, he never wanted her to leave.  _ Never wanted her to leave. _

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this chapter came from, I blacked out in a typing spree and ta-da. I apparently really enjoy dialog between these two lovebirds.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments pretty please?


	9. Breakfast with the Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me pumping out the chapters, can you tell I've been off work?

Tyrion was surprised to hear a light knock on his door in the sunrise hour of the next morning.  He was dressed and on his way out to breakfast with Daenerys and Sansa before the start of the meetings marking the true beginning of the political part of the Summitt.  

 

He opened the door assuming it was a servant with some sort of message for him, but instead was surprised to see a very panicky looking Joy clutching young Selwyn to her chest as well as  Reyna carrying a half-asleep Joanna on her hip who was rubbing her eyes.

 

“We need to go and now!”  hissed Joy quietly trying not to alarm the children.

 

“What is it? Do we need to call the guards?”  asked Tyrion anxiously in a low voice wondering what could possibly lead to this need to evacuate their quarters.

 

“NO!  We need to go. They just got back and we need to go!” Joy said desperately her voice rising in pitch.

 

“Who came back?  What are you talking about?”  Tyrion said.

 

“Cousin Jamie and Brienne.  Hurry we need to go! They went sparring before dawn.” Joy said as if that answered everything.

 

“Sparring?”  Tyrion asked even more confused than before.  It was at that point he heard a long, loud masculine moan followed by an accompanying female one coming from Lord and Lady Lannister’s room.

 

His eyes widened in sudden understanding he nodded his head once, “We need to go.  I’m sure the Queen won’t mind a few more for breakfast.”

 

As they fled down the tower stairs, Tyrion was convinced that the noises were getting louder.

 

“Gods, are they always like this?”  Tyrion said with a touch of envy in his voice.  It had been a  _ long  _ time, a  _ very, very long  _ time for him and it hadn’t been made any easier with his nightly dreams of his former and very unattainable wife.

 

“It’s only after they get their bloodlust up after they spar according to Joy.”  Reyna said watching the young girl ahead of them. “I should have known something was amiss when the children’s Septa awoke me to watch the children as she felt the need to suddenly make it to sunrise prayer at the Sept.”

 

Joanna yawned sleepily, “Where are we going Uncle Tyri?”

 

“To meet the Queen, my love, and perhaps find you someone your own age to play with.”

 

**************************************************************************************************

 

Sansa could hear the laughter coming from the Queen’s rooms before she even turned down the corridor accompanied by a chorus of voices.  She hadn’t expected more than herself and Tyrion for breakfast that morning, but she wondered if maybe Jon had returned and found herself hurrying more quickly than a lady should to find out.  She  _ missed  _ her brother terribly.  With all these confusing and increasingly stronger feelings for Tyrion, she really wanted somebody to talk to and Jon was one of the few she trusted.

 

Opening the door, Sansa saw a magical scene of domesticity.  Daenerys was holding her gigantic belly that was shaking as she laughed at whatever Tyrion was telling her.  Tyrion was holding young Selwyn on his knee as the baby gummed at some toast while Lady Loreyna tried to feed him some pureed fruit with a spoon.  Out on the patio she could see Podrick being chased by Prince Jorah and little Joanna, who fierce as her mother, was waving a wooden sword at him yelling “I’m Lady Arya and I’m going to get the Night King!”  In the Queen’s dressing area she could see Lady Joy giggling with one of Daenerys young handmaidens, holding up dresses to herself and admiring them in the mirror.

 

The sense of enchantment fell, although her face did not, when she started feeling very much the outsider.

 

Much to her credit, the only one that sensed her slight hesitation was Lady Loreyna who was the first to greet her.  “Much apologies for crashing your breakfast meeting this morning my Lady. Her Grace was kind enough to welcome us...refugees from the Hand’s Tower.”

 

Sansa moved to join them at the table and looked at them quizzically as the three of them laughed again.

 

“Refugees?” she queried.

 

“Apparently, the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock became very amorous after an early morning bout in the practice yard.”  the Queen said with a knowing look at Sansa. Sansa’s eyes widened and she turned towards Tyrion who gave her a smile that caused a tingling sensation to sweep through her body.

 

“Oh my!”  Sansa said tearing her eyes from Tyrion to fix a plate as the color rose on her cheeks and neck.  “At least you could escape, I was trapped in the Eyrie the night Aunt Lysa wed Petyr Baelish. I think the mountain clans across the Vale could hear her screams of passion.”

 

Tyrion started to choke on a piece of toast he was chewing, he swallowed quickly and dropped the rest.  “And with that thought, I have lost my appetite. To think my father at one point wanted me to marry that crazed woman but Hoster Tully wanted a “whole” man for his daughter.  I have never been so glad to be a dwarf. Luckily for me, I married the niece instead.” he said winking at her. Sansa’s heart lurched and she was sure her skin and hair color matched at this point.  She was glad to see that this unexpected beginning of the day was putting him in a good mood, after their rather serious conversation the night before. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw him so happy, so much like the old Tyrion.

 

“Aunt Lysa  _ hated _ you, after you schemed your way out of her righteous trial.”  Sansa teased. “She wanted nothing more than to toss you through the moondoor or me for that matter after she saw…”

 

Tyrion quirked an eyebrow at her and Sansa dropped the subject.  Tyrion knew of Petyr causing the rift between the Starks and Lannisters and arranging her marriage to the Boltons, but he was not fully aware of his perverse desire for her due to the resemblance to her mother.  But now was not the time to talk about her unfortunate time in the Vale years ago or in recent months. 

 

“Would this be the very same scheme that ultimately ended in a cutthroat sellsword becoming Lord of Highgarden?”  Daenerys said.

 

“You could say that.”  Tyrion said, still studying Sansa and she knew he would be bringing up this subject she had dropped later.  “A Lannister always pays their debts.”

 

“Speaking of debts…”  Daenerys said and her and Tyrion started a lengthy discussion about terms with the Iron Bank.

 

“Lady Sansa, I could use your help please.”  called Joy. She clutched five dresses to her chest and had the wide eyed look of a child that has found the sweets tray and couldn’t pick just one.

 

Sansa moved to the dressing area where Joy whispered, “Can you believe Her Grace invited me to pick out a gown from her closet to wear to the ball this week?  She noticed we were the same size and since she can’t wear them right now she said somebody should get some use out of them.” She looked around overwhelmed. “I just can’t decide and since you are always turning men’s heads wherever you go--I was hoping you could help.”

 

Sansa watched as Joy showed her several gowns, each one more beautiful than the other, and wondered how she ever thought the girl looked like Cersei.  Joy was joy, it came off her in waves and Sansa wondered if she had ever seen Cersei truly smile or laugh for that matter.

 

She finally couldn’t decide between a deep green gown or a silver one.  Sansa said “Personally, I’d choose the green. After so long with the muted colors of the North, I love a bit of color plus it matches your eyes.  I’m sure Ser Podrick would agree. We could ask him…” she glanced out to the patio to see that he had been “captured” by the two children who were now dancing around him gleefully, “but I think he’s a bit busy.” 

 

Joy laughed at the sight, and then gave a little lovesick sigh “He’s handsome, sweet, and good with kids.  How is he not married yet?”

 

Sansa glanced at Tyrion, who was simultaneously soothing a fussy baby on his lap with one hand while having an intense discussion with the Queen and taking notes with the other.  His natural golden highlights glinted in the early morning sun. He caught her looking at him and gave her a smile causing his eyes to crinkle.

 

“Because most women are fools, and don’t know a good thing when they see it.”  Sansa replied with the truth of her statement hitting far too close to home.

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

Tyrion brushed the crumbs off his breeches dropped by his nephew and waited expectantly for Daenerys to say what was really on her mind.  He had worked for her long enough to know she was holding something back. Podrick and Joy had taken the children for a walk in the gardens including the baby.  Joy had about melted seeing Pod carry little Selwyn as if he weighed nothing. Tyrion had passed him over saying “Be gentle, he might spit up on you.”

 

Pod had replied in a low japing voice “I’ve been thrown up on by a drunken dwarf. I can handle a little baby spit up my Lord.”

 

Tyrion gave him a scowl before cracking a smile,  “You were a lot less cheeky as my squire, Ser Podrick.”

 

After they left, Daenerys turned to Sansa handing her a raven scroll.  Sansa read it her eyes lighting up with delight. “Jon will be home tomorrow!”  

 

Danernys sighed heavily, “Unfortunately it won’t be soon enough.  The maesters and midwives have agreed that I need to be put on bedrest immediately and the timing couldn’t be worse.”  She pulled out her schedule of the Summit. “Jon will be able to take over a great deal of the meetings I meant to lead along with Davos and the other small council members.  However, there is one committee that is dear to me that must be helmed by a woman.”

 

“I would be happy to help.”  Sansa offered. “What is it?”

 

“I currently have it called the Westerosi Women’s Council and I want it to be away for women in this country to start having more say in their lives, their children’s lives and the ultimate future of the seven kingdoms.  As much as I would love you to head it Sansa, I think it will take up a great deal of time and you already have so many meetings to attend as the Wardeness of the North. Ultimately, I was only going to head the first few sessions while I figured out who in the committee is best suited to lead it.”  Daenerys pulled out a list, “I have names of a few women who have already signed up, I hoped one might meet with me this morning before hand to go over my hopes for this new endeavor and chair the meeting.”

 

“Your Grace, If I may be so bold, I believe my name is on that list and as I’m already here, perhaps I may be of some service?” volunteered Reyna.  “Honestly, when I heard about this women’s council in your Summitt announcement, it was the primary reason I volunteered to represent Tarth. This country can not continue, can not make progress, as long as half the population does not have the same freedoms as the other.  But we live in an exciting time! Westeros is ruled by a powerful Queen and King with equal power, my dear cousin is the first female Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. In fact, more women than ever, like Lady Sansa, are the heads of their house. Now is the time to act, so that in future generations women will be valued for more than their ability to be sold in marriage and beget heirs.”

 

Tyrion could hear the passion in Reyna’s voice.  This was  _ important  _ to her as it was to the Queen.  He couldn’t help but reach over and grab her hand in solidarity because he was so proud of her.  She had overcome so much, but she was still here, and still fighting so much like the other two strong Ladies he respected at the table.

 

The Queen studied Reyna thoughtfully.  “Well Lady Loreyna, not only will you represent me today but I am naming you as head chair of the Westerosi Women’s Council.  That was exactly the kind of passion I was hoping to find in a leader and I hope you can inspire the rest.” She turned to Tyrion “Lord Hand, is my impression of your dear friend correct?  Do you support my appointment?’

 

“I think it may be your wisest appointment since naming me Hand.”  Tyrion quipped.

 

Tyrion and Sansa stood to leave with the hour growing late to begin their long day of Summit meetings.  As the midwives came into fuss over the Queen, and move her to a chaise so she could lie down, Tyrion stopped to whisper quietly to Reyna.  “It would be best if she heard the truth of your past from your own lips before any vile rumors reach her. She will respect you all the more for it and understand your passion for this endeavor even more.”

 

“I will keep that in mind.  Thank you.” she gave his hand a squeeze and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning to join the Queen to go over the details for the council.

 

Tyrion quickly forgot about the kiss, thinking more about the day to come and admiring the Northern Lady walking by his side.  

 

However for Sansa, it was all she could think about.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feminism in Westeros? What will Jon's return bring? Will Lady Foxy ever pick up the pace and get on with these two idiots finally hooking up? (Yes even I want to get to the good stuff.)
> 
> Back to work soon and back to writing when I can. **sigh**
> 
> Thanks for all the comments! **HUGS**


	10. Deeds define a man

“He shouldn’t have said that.”  Sansa said with firmness in her voice not looking at him but keeping her eyes forward.  It was the first thing she had said to him since they left the Queen’s chambers. He assumed she was thinking of the work ahead and the excitement of finally having Jon home that had led to her initial silence.

 

Tyrion looked up at her curiously.  He wasn’t sure what she was talking about and he was too distracted by her slender figure filling out her dress in all the right places to try and figure it out.  Today, as every day, she was breathtaking. She was dressed in a dark blue dress of her mother’s colors that matched her eyes and was stitched with a huge direwolf in silver taking up the entirety of her skirt.  All together it was a powerful statement of her heritage. She wore the jewel encrusted trout hair clips in her hair and he once again noticed her long, lovely neck was unadorned. He couldn’t help but think of her dancing in his dreams last night with the dragonfly necklace she wore during their marriage draped around her neck.  He idly wondered whatever became of it.

 

“Who shouldn’t have said what?”  Tyrion asked. He was still ogling her neck not really paying attention to the conversation.  

 

They had reached the area of the keep where the meetings were to take place and had arrived at the room where the Northern Lords were to gather and go over their agenda with their Liege Lady.

 

“My grandfather. He never should have said that about you.”  Sansa said finally meeting his eyes and he could see the barely concealed fury.

 

“What, being referred to as not a whole man?  That is probably one of the nicer things that has been said about me.”  Tyrion japed, genuinely surprised that this had bothered her.

 

“It doesn’t make it right.” Sansa said her eyes softening.  “You were the only one to save me in a room full of knights from the King’s wrath, you were wounded in battle defending the city from Stannis, you fought the undead side by side with me in the crypts of Winterfell, and have fought to keep Westeros a place of peace and prosperity as the Hand.”  She paused holding his gaze. “Deeds should define a man, not their stature, and based on that you are not only a whole man but ten times most of them.”

 

With a twirl of her skirt, she strode into the room leaving him slack jawed in her wake.  Surprised his knees could carry him, trembling as they were, he found a window well to sit on the next hallway over and mulled over the words in his mind on an endless loop.  He sat there in stunned amazement at the level of esteem she had just demonstrated for him. Those words were truly the greatest gift he had ever been given, and if he could admit it to himself, even greater than when Daenerys named him Hand because of how he felt about the Lady in question.  His feelings for Sansa were becoming dangerous and if he didn’t keep himself in check they were bound to lead to a confession that would most likely destroy this friendship he valued above all others. That would be a greater personal tragedy than his heart could take. 

 

Slowly he rose to his feet and headed for his first meeting, but before entering the room he stopped one of his pages.  “I would like to meet with the Head Housekeeper before the mid-day meal. And Ser Podrick Payne too if you will deliver the message.  I last saw him in the gardens with the young Prince and my cousin.”

 

Sansa had given him a precious gift, and maybe with a little luck he could find a way to begin to repay her with something treasured she had lost.

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

“Tell me what you know of the Lord of Storm’s End.”  Lady Jenna asked with a slow smile. They had spent the last half hour or so discussing Sansa’s memories of her Tyrell family and Sansa was quickly warming to this woman who looked so much like her dear friend.  She was a harder version of Margarey and not so much refined but more honed to a point. Sansa was not surprised by the change in subject after the Queen’s initial description of her. A woman like Lady Jenna, while intrigued by her family, would always be more interested in being in the know and of being on top of rumors and gossip. 

Sansa hid her smile in her tea cup, thinking of a similar conversation she had with Lady Olenna about Joffrey.  She had asked “ _ How kind is he?  How clever? Had he a good heart, a gentle hand? _ ”   Joffrey of course had none of those qualities-he was a monster.  His Uncle on the other hand, had all those qualities in spades and her smile slipped as her heart ached painfully at the thought.

 

“He’s a good man, but I’m sure you already know that.  I hear you and Lord Varys have found...some common interests.”  Sansa said, letting Jenna know she was not to be played.

 

Jenna laughed.  “Yes, Lord Varys and I have found a common interest, he needs a protege and I’m making plans for later in life.  Luckily, they coincide.”

 

“You’re Lady of Highgarden, what plans could you be making?”  Sansa asked perplexed.

 

“Unlike you Lady Sansa, my title of Lady of Highgarden is not for my lifespan.  My husband is over twenty years my senior and when he passes, the title will pass to this little one.” she said caressing her rounded belly.  “I’m not planning on being the widow matriarch that won’t pass the torch to her children and interferes with her children’s lives out of sheer boredom.  Why would I do that when I could come here and actually help the King or Queen and have a seat of importance on the small council?”

 

“I think that you are a very wise woman for thinking that far in advance.  Does Ser Bronn know you have an eventuality for his demise?” Sansa said smirking.

 

“He’s all for it.  He said ‘That he didn’t want me to be an old manipulative cunt like my busybody Grandmother and if I was going to be a cagey old bitch I may as well do it service of the Realm.” Jenna said, imitating her husband’s speech.

 

Sansa choked on her lemoncake in laughter.  “It’s good to have a spouse that is supportive of your goals.” she said when she composed herself feeling wistful that she didn’t have someone to encourage her like that.

 

“My marriage is a constant source of surprise.”  Jenna said thoughtfully while unconsciously rubbing her swollen belly. “ I thought we’d have a purely physical relationship but it turns out we enjoy each other’s company out of the bedroom too.  In fact, I prefer his company to most others.” she said with a smile that almost looked melancholy. “There are days I almost think he may feel the same but my husband... is not an easy man to read.”

 

Sensing a need to change the subject back Sansa asked “I assume your question about Gendry has to do with your young friend Lady Talla.”

 

“Yes.  Do you know I was born and raised at Horn Hill?”  Jenna asked.

 

“I did not.”  Sansa was not quite sure what the protocol was for asking a bastard about their parentage so had not asked.

 

“My mother was a handmaiden and true friend to Lady Melessa for most of her life.  A friendship so deep, that she was allowed to keep her position after a night of debauchery during one of Lord Tyrell’s visits led to my conception.  Surprisingly, according to my mother, Lord Randyll acquiesced to her request that my mother stay her handmaiden and be allowed to raise her child at Horn Hill.  I think he liked having something to hold over my father. Although, Lord Randyll made sure I stayed very far away from his sons, he didn’t want me to tempt them with my sinful bastard blood.”  She laughed at that. “Talla on the other hand, was a different story. She is like a little sister to me and I only wish the best for her. So I ask you now, is this Gendry Baratheon a good man?  Will he be a suitable match for her and be a kind and gentle husband?”

 

“Gendry is a good, kind man with a big heart.  He still has some rough edges, which I’m sure you are no stranger to with your choice of husband, but he has earned the respect of his bannermen and shows great potential with what he has done with the Stormlands so far.  I believe that if a match were to take place it would be to the enormous benefit of both parties.” Sansa replied.

 

“And the rumors about your sister and Lord Gendry?   His late father never got over losing your Aunt Lyanna and I don’t want Talla to be forever in her shadow.” Jenna said with some concern.

 

“I think they did love each other, but were not in love if that makes sense.  Besides, after what we both saw last night...I don’t think that’s a worry!” Sansa smiled broadly.  The ladies shared a laugh at the behavior of the lovestruck pair.

 

“Well that’s one of the top bachelors in Westeros mostly spoken for and the Summitt just opened!”  Jenna said animatedly. “I wonder who will be next? I understand the Queen has asked you to help in the matchmaking for both Lord Robin Arryn and Lord Tyrion.”

 

Sansa groaned inwardly, she really didn’t want to talk about matches for Tyrion so she focused on her annoying cousin.  “Yes, in a way. Honestly what do I know about matchmaking? If you have any suggestions for Robin please let me know. I’m trying to let my Aunt Roslin deal with him, he adores her on account of she tolerates him better than most.”

 

“I’ll only pass on what  I’ve heard so far. The only Ladies that held his interest at all last night were at least ten years his senior.  Our young Lord apparently has a taste for older women. I wonder why?” she grinned slyly at Sansa who remembered in horror the way Aunt Lysa had babied him.

 

“Actually, that’s probably a very good thing.  The Queen wants a strong woman in the Vale and someone older might have a better chance of shouldering that responsibility.  An ideal woman would still be of childbearing age though, his current heir,” she paused wondering how much she dared to say, “ is not the kind of individual I’d like to see as Lord Protector of the Vale.”

 

“Harold Hardyng correct?” Jenna asked.  “Some of my Ladies found him most charming and handsome.  I believe there has been whispers of some bastards he has sired, but I think there is something you are trying hard to not say.”

 

“Just ...watch your charges around him, he may take”  again she paused “liberties with young ladies.” She took a sip of her tea as a wave of nausea and dread overtook her.

 

Jenna’s face hardened into a scowl.  “I will keep this in mind and disseminate this information to others who may need to keep an eye out.”  Her face softened. “I take it this is first hand knowledge?” she asked gently.

 

“Recent first hand knowledge.”  She dropped her gaze feeling angry and ashamed.  “With my frequent and vocal declaration that I will never remarry, plus the very true stories of my second husband’s bloody demise, I deluded myself that dealing with the amorous attentions of men was a thing of my past.  I was wrong and I will not let myself be caught with my guard down again. Nor will I let it happen to someone else.”

 

“The hounds?  That was a true story?  If half of what we heard in the South was true, I hope he’s being torn apart by hounds hourly in the lowest of the seven hells.”  Jenna said. A quiet minute followed before Jenna abruptly changed the subject. “And Lord Tyrion? Have you found any prospective brides for him?  My Ladies indicated that he wouldn’t give them the time of day and spent his evening talking to you or Lord Selwyn’s niece.”

 

Sansa knew she was trying to be kind by turning the topic away from Ramsey but Tyrion remarrying was becoming more painful to her than memories of evil men now dead.  However, she was used to having to hide her feelings. “He has not told me of a Lady that has caught his eye yet, but the Summit has just started.”

 

“Or perhaps, there is already a woman he’s interested in, but hasn’t figured out if the feelings are mutual.  What do you know of this Lady Loreyna?” Jenna asked with a smirk.

 

“Her Uncle and cousin adore her, I know for a fact.  She had been nothing but kind to me and has already made quite an impression with our Queen and was made chair to the new Westerosi Women’s Council.” Sansa said flatly not wishing to discuss the all to real possibility of a match between Reyna and Tyrion.

 

“Rumor has it that they met previous to her coming to King’s Landing.  Is that true?”

 

“Yes, in Pentos after he escaped his false imprisonment.”  Sansa took another sip of her tea before her curiosity caused her to  casually ask “What other rumors have you heard about her?”

 

“Since she showed up on Lord Tyrion’s arm last night, I have heard nothing but rumors of who she is circulating the capitol.  It’s figuring out the nuggets of truth, the common thread, amongst all I have heard. That is the true art of the Master or Mistress of Whispers, to separate the wheat from the chaff.   All I really know to be true so far is that Lady Loreyna had an immense falling out with her father leading to her permanent presence in Tarth, she did in fact marry a lowborn knight in a reported love match and subsequently was widowed, and she is known to be barren although what caused it I do not know.”

 

“Based on what you have heard, were you in my position where I am supposed to look for ulterior motives in potential wives, should I be worried about this woman?”  Sansa asked.

 

“I think if anything were to develop between them, I believe it would be genuine.  She already has status, some power, and a comfortable quiet life on Tarth so marrying Tyrion would not change her fortune dramatically.  As for some of the vile rumors I heard, they ring about as false and over the top as that bawdy song about your and Lord Tyrion’s marriage. What was it called again?  Oh yes,  _ The Imp’s Delight.”   _ Lady Jenna japed not noticing the look of confusion and shock on her new friend’s face as she was distracted by a noise at the door indicating Bronn’s return from his last meeting of the day.

 

Lady Jenna rose to greet her husband and Sansa was more than a bit surprised to see him gather her tenderly in her arms and caress their growing child with a gentle hand.  He ignored Sansa as if she weren’t there focused solely on his wife. “Did you finally see the Queen’s midwives like I asked?” he asked gruffly with a tinge of worry.

 

“Yes, and you were right about our maester being a moron.  I’m closer to seven moons into this pregnancy. The babe is well, just a bit on the smaller side.” Jenna said beaming up at her husband.

 

“Good, and the other thing?”  he asked concern etched on his face.  

 

“They said a small bit of bleeding was not unheard of but advised me to not allow my husband in my bed anymore.  They even gave me a recommendation for a “clean” brothel to divert your attention too.” she said with a biting smile.  Sansa could see her eyes searching his to see how he felt about this.

 

Bronn raked his hand through his hair angrily “Glad those old cunts know women and babies, cuz they sure know shit all about men.”

 

“To be fair, I was conceived while my father’s wife was recovering from childbirth.”  Jenna said.

 

“Your father was a cunt too.” Bronn said bitterly.  “You don’t reward a woman for bearing your child by crawling between another’s legs.”

 

It was only then that he acknowledged Sansa’s presence, but showed no sign of being embarrassed about her overhearing his and Jenna’s conversation.

 

“Lady Sansa,  how goes the matchmaking?  Auctioned off your ex to the highest bidder yet?”  Bronn said with a wicked smile. It was amazing to her how he could switch so easily from being a devoted and clearly besotted husband to the churlish man she had always known.

 

Sansa just raised her eyebrows at him letting him know she heard him but would not be stooping to his level.  Instead she asked “Do you and your men still frequent the pubs in Flea Bottom Ser Bronn?”

 

“Sometimes, in fact one of my men-at-arms has a cousin that travels as a minstrel and will be at the Spotted Dog in two nights time.”  He studied her leaning forward. “Why?”

 

Sansa rose, bending over and giving her new friend a squeeze on her hand in farewell.  “Your wife just told me about a song I’ve never heard that often frequents those types of establishments.   _ The Imp’s Delight _ I believe?  I will join you and your men in two nights time.”  Sansa knew she had him once she mentioned the song’s name and he banged his fist on the table.

 

“Like Hell you well!  Do you know what your brother or that shit Tyrion would do to me if they knew I took you to Flea Bottom?”  Bronn said stormily.

 

“They needn’t know Ser Bronn, but if you don’t escort me I’ll just ask Podrick to take me to this Spotted Dog establishment.” Sansa said knowing how he’d react to that suggestion.

 

“Gods you might as well take a puppy.  They’ll eat him alive.” Bronn grumbled.  Warring with himself, he raised her eyes to meet hers.  “Fine. My boys and I will make sure no harm comes to you, but there is a reason he’s kept this nastiness from your ears.  He’s trying to protect you.” There was no question for her who the “he” in question was.

 

“I’m not a child anymore and I will hear what lies are being spread about me.”  She turned to leave and gave Jenna a large reassuring smile seeing how distressed she looked about telling Sansa about  _ The Imp’s Delight. _   “I look forward to many more talks with you Lady Jenna and I will see you Ser Bronn in two nights time.”

 

As she closed the door, leaving the room and the Lord and Lady of Highgarden behind she heard a long sigh and a loud but resigned sounding “Fuck!” barked by Ser Bronn.

 

Cold anxiety gripped her heart now that the moment had passed and she wondered if she really wanted to hear what kind of song her life had turned into.  The anxiety was slowly replaced by anger at Tyrion as she walked to her room wondering how many more secrets he was “protecting” her from.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a bit since I posted but I promise y'all a bawdy song next chapter to make up for it.
> 
> A sincere thanks to all who continue to read and write for this ship. You give me life. Truly, you have no idea.
> 
> Comments? Pretty please?


	11. The Imp's Delight

It had been two days of Summit meetings, two  _ full  _ days filled with bickering, infighting, slights, and petty power games, but above all  _ progress.   _ Beautiful, hopeful progress and it was like Tyrion could see the loose ties binding this kingdom, this realm of seven, into one Westeros united under a Stark King (no matter his true parentage, any who knew him understood that he was the embodiment of Ned Stark thru and thru) and a Targaryen Queen.  Ice and fire forging a kingdom to last in peace and prosperity, to finally last in what he prayed was perpetuity.

 

The only downfall of all this progress being that he hadn’t exchanged more than a word or two with Sansa since she told him he was worth ten times most men.  She had begged off dinner the first night claiming she was tired from all the meetings and spent last evening with her family after Jon had returned. He had hoped to see her tonight but was told she was spending the evening with the Lord and Lady of Highgarden.

 

So bone weary and tired, he retreated to his room late after a quick dinner with the Lannister clan (and Podrick who was becoming a fixture in the Lannister household) to find two beat up, musty smelling trucks at the foot of his bed.  Attached was a note from the Head Housekeeper who was as much a steward for the Keep.

 

_ My Lord Hand- _

_    With the help of your erstwhile former squire Sir Podrick, we believe that these two trunks are what were stored upon your and Lady Stark’s departure from King’s Landing some years ago.  The contents appear to be mostly books from what we can tell, and truthfully all the clothes were most likely stolen by staff employed by my predecessor. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance. _

 

Tyrion snorted in derision.   _ Departure _ he thought, what a kind word for fleeing for your life.  He has suspected as much about the clothes. Sansa’s dresses were worth a pretty penny and even his own could be worth something if tailored more appropriately for children.  But clothes weren’t what he was looking for, nor were books. He popped open the trunks and started pulling out the contents, sorting the books into piles to be stored away in his own collection or given away as he had already replaced them.  He shook the books and looked for any gleam of metal, knowing that any Lannister jewels had been returned to his father surely, but hoping- _ hoping  _ that somehow the object of his search had been spared the filching fingers of the maids.

 

The first trunk had been all books and the second contained more but a few other possessions, mostly gifts from his brother like the small bejeweled silver dragon statue Jamie had given him.  As he neared the bottom of the trunk, he realized that he hadn’t found one thing that had belonged to Sansa.  _ Nothing.   _ When they had moved in together, he thought she had filled his room to overflowing with her things.  But it was her presence that filled his room, and quite often his thoughts, along with just the basic accoutrements of being a high born Lady of the Court. __ However, just looking at these trunks, these remnants of  the past, it was as if they had never been married, had never shared a room, or a life together.  But he guessed they hadn’t really and the creeping tendrils of his depression worried at the corner of his mind at the thought.

 

Feeling a fool, a damned fool for hoping to find a piece of her past, his eyes settled on a wrapped bundle at the bottom of the trunk.  He unwrapped it to find a doll, much like the ones Myrcella used to play with, staring back at him. A vague recollection of seeing Sansa with this toy popped into his mind.  She was too old to play with dolls but he once found her staring at it deep in thought when he walked into their rooms one day. She put it away quickly and when he asked her about it she didn’t answer.  Shae told him later, witnessing the exchange, that it had been a gift from her father. Banishing Shae quickly from his mind, he felt his spirits lift a little, happy that he could at least find one thing to give her even if it wasn’t what he was looking for.

 

He lifted the doll and found nestled underneath a flash of silver in the straw cradling the doll.  Further investigation found a chain with a broken clasp and attached to it, a silver dragonfly. Tyrion stared at it thoughtfully, a huge smile crossing his face and he planned to go to a jeweler he knew the next day. Finally succumbing to his exhaustion, he fell asleep in his chair clutching the necklace in his hand and dreaming of it around Sansa’s neck in the garden before his father summoned him with news of the Red Wedding and everything went straight to hell.

 

He was awoken by a frantic pounding at his chamber door and wondered what could be the problem at this late hour. Groggily, he told the person to enter while placing the necklace back in the wrapping with the doll.  Podrick rushed into the room followed by Gendry Baratheon. Podrick opened his mouth several times to speak but nothing came out and Gendry finally said “Lady Jenna is in distress, we need to find Ser Bronn immediately.  Lady Talla is with her and she is being cared for by the Queen’s Maester and midwives…”

 

“The baby?  Did she lose the baby?”  Tyrion asked his voice breaking in concern.

 

“I don’t know, but there was a lot of blood and she lost consciousness.”  Gendry said in a worried tone.

 

“Do we know where he’s at?” Tyrion said pulling on his cloak and hurrying down the stairs.

 

“He’s at a pub in Flea Bottom called the Spotted Dog.”  Tyrion was familiar with the place as it was “nice” compared to other pubs and attached to a brothel he had frequented years and years ago.

 

Tyrion paused “Why did you come to get me?  You have plenty of men at your disposal and grew up in Flea Bottom if I recall so don’t need me for directions.”

 

“Ser Bronn took someone with him to this...establishment to see the entertainment and I thought discretion might be best for both of their sakes.”  Gendry said proving to Tyrion how far he had come in learning political maneuvering.

 

“Bronn is stepping out on his pregnant wife?  I’m assuming this woman is of some name and married to boot no doubt.”  He shook his head as Podrick helped him mount the horses Gendry had waiting for the three of them.  “I don’t know why I’d thought better of him.”

 

Podrick finally found his tongue “He’s with Lady Sansa.  I’m her sworn sword, it’s my job to protect her but I didn’t know..she didn’t tell me.”  He said in the most miserable voice he had ever heard coming out of his young friend.

 

“Sansa??  Why on earth would she go to Flea Bottom?”  Tyrion growled fearing for her safety, remembering the riot all too well.

 

“All Talla could get from Lady Jenna is that Lady Sansa wanted to hear a song that they don’t sing at more reputable places.” Gendry replied.

 

“Fuck.” Tyrion said more to himself than anybody and urged his horse to a gallop thinking he knew what she went to hear.

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

For all the nastiness and trials Sansa had endured in her life, she knew in some ways she was still rather naive.  But she was also a curious sort and coming to a pub in Flea Bottom was an experience she wouldn’t soon forget. The place was well lit, yet Bronn had maneuvered her into a dark corner with her hood up sandwiched between himself and a bald, gentle voiced mountain of a man Bronn called “Tiny” but had introduced himself as Francis.  He reminded her very much of Hodor physically but his complete lack of facial hair and even a passing look at the whores made her conclude he was a eunuch. A third small wiry man Bronn called “Rat” but Francis said was named Ralston circulated the pub looking for any trouble. He was also the cousin to the minstrel and had requested (with some silver)that he play the  _ Imp’s Delight  _ at the beginning of his set so they could leave as soon as possible.

 

The men and Sansa each had a mug of ale before them and in Sansa’s nervousness, she found herself drinking it faster than she should.  Bronn had barely touched his and she could feel the coiled tension coming off of him like a predator ready to strike and Sansa almost felt bad for putting him in this situation.  

 

The ale started to go to Sansa’s head a bit and she found herself studying the other women in the room.  Some were just serving wenches, dressed in low cut rough spun dresses, but most were whores dressed in scraps of silk that left little to the imagination.  What she found so fascinating about them was the utter confidence they found in displaying their bodies, no matter their shape or size. A few had extensive tattoos and a few more even had scars although not as prolific as her own with the exception of one tall, slim sandy haired beauty who had whip marks all down her back that she did nothing to hide.  Sansa felt her eyes drawn to her and on an impulse born mostly by alcohol she put a silver on the table and asked her to join her as she walked by.

 

Bronn huffed and looked at her like he knew she had lost her mind and went to check with Ralston while giving Francis a look.  The eunuch pulled Sansa flush against his meaty side and gave the whore a warning glance.

 

“I don’t believe your large companion there is interested in my company, so I’m gathering that I’m here for you.”  she purred into Sansa’s ear, putting a hand on her thigh.

 

Sansa demurely removed her hand.  “I’d rather talk about the scars on your back and how your clients view them.”  she said pulling her dress up to her thigh for a moment so the whore could see one of Ramsey’s gifts to her.

 

“How somebody gets their scars is of little consequence in the end beautiful girl.  Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you.”  she studied Sansa’s face. “You would be surprised how little it bothers most men. They see what they want to see and if you're lucky enough to be with a man that cares for you he won’t see them for more than being a part of you.”

 

Bronn came back with more ale and gave the whore a dismissive indication with his head.  She grabbed the coin and whispered in her ear before leaving “Scars are part of you, but they do not define your worth.  Don’t forget that.”

 

Sansa was half way through her second mug of ale pondering the whore’s words and was starting to feel a bit tipsy when Ralston’s cousin took the stage with his fellow minstrels and addressed the audience.

 

“Friends!!  It is so glad to be back in King’s Landing in such a glorious time when the Dragons on the throne are fair and just!  We have an exciting set here tonight, with a few new songs but before we get started I received a request for a song that was very popular a few years ago but has not had much play since the shadow of the Dragon King and Queen and shall I say...a certain small advisor have returned to court.”

 

There was a tittering amongst the crowd.  They all knew who he was talking about and dread surrounded Sansa’s heart.

 

“As I said, we are all friends here so I sure would appreciate it if word wouldn’t get back to the Keep.  As much as I would love to meet a dragon, I don’t want it to be the last thing I see!” he laughed. “So without further ado I bring you the IMP’S DELIGHT!!!!!”

 

Sansa took a sharp intake of breath and in a show of kindness that shocked her, Bronn squeezed her hand briefly and gave her a sad half smile before a loud and jaunty tune burst forth from the musicians.

 

_ Poor old Ned _

_  lost his head _

_ Now his lovely daughter _

_  to the Imp to wed _

_ Why’s this poor girl to suffer  _

_ such a terrible plight?  _

_ And she'll forever more _

_ be known as the Imp’s Delight. _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

Sansa wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the words or the fact that everyone was clapping to the tune and singing the chorus with raised glasses.

 

_ In battle the Imp _

_  nearly lost his life _

_ So he told his father  _

_ “I think I deserve a wife!   _

_ The King’s to marry  _

_ the Lady Tyrell _

_ So why don’t I marry _

_ The lovely heir to Winterfell?” _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

Sansa’s mind raced.  He had said he hadn’t asked for their marriage.  That was true right? She wished she hadn’t drank so much ale as she wasn’t thinking straight.

 

_ The tall red wolf _

_ with her hair aflame _

_ was not an easy creature _

_ for the Imp to tame _

_ She refused to take _

_  him in her bed  _

_ and her legs for him _

_  she would not spread _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

Sansa could feel some of the ale shoot back up her throat and willed herself not to vomit.

 

_ A wedding at the Twins _

_ was a bloody slaughter _

_ making a grieving orphan _

_ of the traitor’s daughter _

_ The lone wolf cried _

_ without her pack _

_ and plotted how she  _

_ could go on the attack. _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

Her shock quickly turned to anger and sobered up Sansa somewhat at the mention of the so called Red Wedding.

 

_ She told her Lord husband _

_ that she’d only share his bed _

_ once she knew _

_ the King was good and dead. _

_ So the lustful Imp being _

_  a clever man _

_  began to hatch _

_  an evil plan _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

Is this truly what the small folk thought of her? Sansa thought in horror.  That she manipulated Tyrion to kill Joffrey with the promise of sharing his bed?

 

_ The Imp schemes to place  _

_ some poison in the wine, _

_ He said with a grin _

_ “Now her maidenhead is mine!” _

_ And all the while _

_ his dear little bride _

_ had plans of her own _

_ to escape the golden pride. _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

The crowd joined loudly in singing the line about her maidenhead and Sansa wilted in humiliation.

 

_ The cruel King died _

_ in the arms of his mother _

_ And she screamed to the guards _

_ “The murderer is my brother!” _

_ The Imp was promptly tossed _

_  in a cell beneath the Keep _

_ And knew that for his fate _

_ nobody would weep. _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

The crowd shouted along with “The murderer is my brother!” and Sansa fumed in anger thinking of how Petyr and Lady Olenna had framed them both.

  
  


_ In the black of his cell _

_ He realized he’d been played, _

_ But he smiled to himself _

_ “At least I fucked her maid!” _

_ His wolf wife fled _

_ from the city that day _

_ But where she went _

_ her husband could not say _

 

_ The Imp's Delight _

_ The Imp's Delight _

 

The crowd whooped and roared chanting “At least I fucked her maid!” and images of Shae’s face, a woman Sansa had thought was her friend and maybe she was before she married Tyrion, flitted through her mind.

  
  


_ The Lord Imp learned  _

_ a lesson that day _

_ “I should have stuck to fucking _

_ women I have to pay! _

_ For this crime, I will suffer  _

_ The Gods’ eternal spite _

_ But I’d do it all again for _

_  a taste of The Imp’s Delight!” _

 

Finally, Sansa could take no more and tears began to stream silently down her face.  Beside her she felt Ser Bronn stiffen during the last stanza, his eyes on the door. Sansa followed his gaze to see Pod and Lord Gendry at the door followed by a small hooded figure that she knew was Tyrion.  He peered around the larger men looking for them no doubt and not more than a second went by before his eyes met hers. They stared at each other across the distance that felt far more vast than it was in reality and she could see his face fall observing her tear streaked cheeks.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm...yeah. Please let me know what you think of The Imp's delight (and keep in mind its SUPPOSE to be bawdy and awful)
> 
> As for our two, there are definitely storm clouds on the horizon. No rain, no rainbow.


	12. No one can protect any one

 It has all happened so quickly after the three men had spotted them.  Bronn had headed over to meet them while Francis had essentially carried her along behind him.  She hadn’t heard all that Gendry had said to Bronn in a hushed voice as they gathered outside the pub but had heard enough to know Lady Jenna and the babe were in trouble.  With a hard, stricken look on his face, Bronn had launched himself onto one of the waiting horses without a word and galloped off at a reckless speed into the night. They all had stood there for a moment in shock as if trying to figure out their next course of action, when Francis forced his bulk forward and took command in his boss’s abrupt absence.  He picked up Tyrion like a doll and plopped him on his horse. “Make sure the boss don’t kill himself or anybody else in an attempt to get to his Lady. He actually listens to you sometimes half-man.”

 

“A pleasure as always Francis, I haven’t forgotten that you still owe me a rematch for cyvasse.  I’ll make sure he gets to her in one piece.” He turned and gave Sansa a long imploring look, and she could see the guilt and pain etched across his face.  She turned away, everything so raw she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes and heard only the hooves of his horse as he galloped off after Bronn.

 

Sansa just stood numbly, staring at the stars in the night sky, while the men sorted out who should take her on the remaining horse and found herself deposited behind Podrick.  He set them off at a brisk pace and Sansa clutched herself to Pod, burying her head in his back trying to shut out the world around her. Wishing for the night to be over, wishing she had never gone to the pub, wishing she hadn’t drank so much and heard that awful song, wishing she was home at Winterfell where things were  _ safe  _ and  _ simple  _ and she could wrap herself in her icy solitude again.   She also prayed and hoped for the health of her new friend and her unborn child.  Finally, Podrick broke her out of her swirling inner turmoil.

 

“I was worried about you my Lady.”  he said, his voice tight and she knew hurt.  “I should have been with you, I  _ am  _ your sworn sword.  I am sorry if I have been distracted.  It won’t happen again, I will be by your side day and night.”

 

Sansa sighed, ashamed at hurting such a good soul like Podrick Payne.  “You weren’t with me because I knew you wouldn’t want me to go. You have pledged your sword to me Podrick but we both know you won’t be returning to Winterfell. Once you pledge your love to your true Lady, I will happily release you from any vow to me with joy in my heart or should I say Joy Lannister in yours.   And if you don’t ask that girl to marry you before this Summitt is over, you are the biggest fool in Westeros. An even bigger fool than me.” Her voice broke in a half-sob, half-laugh “I always wanted my life to be a song, and now I know be careful what you wish for!”

 

“It’s all lies my Lady.  You know that.” Podrick said gently.

 

“I’d like to say that matters, but I’m not sure it does.  It hurts all the same.” She wiped away some more tears, wishing a new that she could shut off all these feelings.  “I just wish Tyrion would have told me.” 

“He was trying to protect you.  He always has.” Podrick said.

 

Sansa thought of a conversation she had with Jon long ago.  “No one can protect any one.”

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

Tyrion had finally caught up with Bronn minutes before they pounded their exhausted horses into the stable yard of the Keep.  Luckily, the late night hour had kept the streets clear and they made it back without incident and in record time. Bronn dismounted, tossing the reins at a stable boy, and took off at a dead run for his rooms as Tyrion followed as quickly as he was able in his wake.  He was just relieved they made it back safely as Bronn’s eunuch man-at-arms was not someone Tyrion wanted to anger.

 

He tried not to think of Sansa or her tear streaked face, and tried as he may to shelve that in his mind to process later.  For better or worse, he was bound in an odd friendship (is that what it was?) with Bronn of the Blackwater, and his job right now was to help the Lord and Lady of Highgarden in anyway he could.

 

Huffing and puffing, he arrived at their rooms to find Lady Talla outside weeping and being held by Reyna, along with several other ladies in Lady Jenna’s retinue.  Tyrion was relieved to see a level head in the crowd and addressed Reyna in a hushed tone

 

“How is Lady Jenna?  Did she lose the babe?  What did the maester say?”

 

“I don’t know very much but she has lost a lot of blood and while the bleeding has stopped, she has still not awoken.”  Ryena whispered quietly.

 

Lady Talla finally spoke in choked words while Reyna pulled her to her chest, “She just kept saying over and over again to tell her husband that she was sorry.  That she was sorry?! As if she were to blame for this??” Talla reiterated with a heartbreaking cry of anger and fear.

 

A midwife hurried out of the bedroom, and Tyrion slipped in without being noticed using his stature to his advantage.  Lady Jenna lay pale and corpse like on the bed, with Bronn standing a few feet away listening to the Grand Maester and the senior midwife but never taking his eyes off his wife’s still, yet breathing, form.  Tyrion’s heart broke for the man and in that moment, he could almost empathize with his own father who lost his wife in the birthing bed. It was Tywin’s reaction to the child born to a dying mother that was unforgivable.

 

With a hard set of his jaw, Bronn wrenched his eyes from his wife and addressed the maester in a hoarse voice “Will she live?”

 

“We have heard the baby's heartbeat...” the maester continued before Bronn abruptly cut him off.

 

“I didn’t ask about the babe.  I asked about my WIFE!” Bronn shouted in the man’s face while grabbing him by the collar and hauling him upwards.

 

“In her current state, she will not survive delivery.  If we can keep her quiet, help her regain her strength, keep labor from starting, she has a chance.  But only if she wakes my Lord.” the maester pleaded.

 

Bronn made an unintelligible sound, like a guttural choked sob, at the same time a voice from the bed no louder than a sigh murmured “Bronn.”

 

Bronn rushed over and knelt by the bed, holding Jenna’s hand in his and sweeping her dark hair off her clammy forehead before laying a kiss on her brow.  “Thank the Gods.”

 

“I’m sorry husband, the baby…” she said in a tearful voice.

 

“Our child is a fighter like us wife and lives still and don’t you dare waste your breath apologizing to me.  The Stranger tried to take you from me and I’ve never been more afraid.”

 

“But you're not afraid of anything.” Jenna whispered weakly.

 

“That’s because I had nothing to lose my whole life but my worthless head.  Now I have you and I can't ...I can’t lose you woman, not now, not ever.” He said bowing his head as if the weight of his feelings were too much to bear.

 

“Death can’t take me from you my love.”  Jenna said and raised her hand to his cheek where he pressed it with his hand and kissed her wrist.

 

Tyrion was suddenly aware that this was a private moment that he should not be witnessing and made for the door watching the couple on the bed finally realize what they meant to each other.

 

For all that Bronn had carried on about wanting a castle and a highborn bride to warm his bed, he had truly wanted no more than any other man Tyrion thought.  He wanted a  _ home,  _ he wanted a  _ family,  _ and the lucky bastard had found it in spite of himself.  With more than a touch of envy he left the scene behind him, hoping in his heart to find a love like that but knowing it was impossible as his heart belonged to someone who could never love him back.

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

Sansa sat on a small bench next to the Royal Sept which was adjacent to the maidenvault where the Lord and Lady of Highgarden were staying.  Podrick had insisted that he take her to her room and she refused flatly and had ordered him to leave her at the Sept so she could find some solace in prayer.  They both knew it was a lie, if she wanted to pray she would go to the Godswoods, but she had sent him away, needing to be alone and he had made sure the guards on patrol knew where she was.  Sansa had staked out that location hoping to see somebody coming or going that could give her news. She dared not go to the rooms herself being somewhat inebriated and feeling tremendously guilty of causing Bronn’s absence in his wife’s time of greatest need.  There was also the possibility that she could run into Tyrion and she wasn’t sure she could face him yet.

 

She  _ knew  _ in her heart that Tyrion was well meaning in keeping that garish pack of lies from her.  But that almost made it worse, like she was still some fragile creature to be coddled. She had fought and bled beside the man in the crypts, had fought for her home and paid the price with her own body from the Boltons.  She was not a porcelain doll, she would not break that easily. Did it upset her? Of course, she was human and it was humiliating and hearing it had opened some old wounds making her feeling raw and exposed.

 

What had hurt the most was the fact that he hadn’t told her, hadn’t believed she was strong enough to cope.  She had thought him different from most men, one that believed her an equal to him in every way. After all, he served a powerful woman in Daenerys.  Would he have kept such a thing from his Queen, Lady Brienne, of even Lady Loreyna? Not on his life. What made him treat her differently from those other women?  Did she deserve less respect or did he think her weak? This thought brought some feelings of resentment to accompany the ones of misery and anguish already filling her.

 

Light filled the yard then as a man emerged from the maidenvault and by the clanking of the chain she knew it was the Grand Maester.  Sansa knew him as a kindly middle aged from her few interactions with him and immediately intercepted him.

 

“Grand Maester, how is Lady Blackwater?”  He looked surprised to see her.

 

“My dear Lady Stark, I didn’t expect to see you out here at this late hour.  Most of the ladies are inside.” he said looking at her curiously.

 

Sansa recognized that remark as a question but had learned the fine art of keeping quiet and letting others talk to fill the void.  She just raised her eyebrow as he had not answered her question. Slowly, she saw the gears turning in his head as he realized that he should not be commenting on the King’s sister’s whereabouts.

 

“Lady Jenna has awoken but is terribly weak from the blood loss.  She will need much rest and quiet until she delivers if both mother and baby are too survive the ordeal.”  Sansa gave a gasp of relief that both mother and child were still living. “I have no doubt that her  _ husband _ ,”  he pulled strangely at his collar as if it were choking him “can keep her flock from disturbing her with him around but I wish I could move her somewhere quieter for when he is not.”

 

“You could move her to my room.”  Sansa quickly volunteered, trying to think of anyway she could help.  But as soon as she said it, she knew it was the best course of action.  “That way you and the midwives will not have to travel back and forth to check on both the Queen and Lady Jenna.  Also, the King and Queenguards can keep visitors to a minimum per your instructions. Plus, I’m sure our Queen will become restless in her confinement and may enjoy another Lady’s company who is in a similar situation.”

 

“That is an excellent suggestion my Lady provided the King and Queen agree and we can find you a suitable room that is.  I know the Red Keep and the city itself is at capacity.”

 

“Well it’s quite simple then.” a deep voice she knew all too well said.  “She can have my room.”

Tyrion appeared next to her looking more than a little disheveled and weary and maddingly, despite her anger, she found him more attractive than ever.  “Luckily, I am a small man used to sleeping on settees.” He said this in a joking matter, harking back to their wedding night, trying to break the wall of tension between them.  She knew this, but she gave him no acknowledgement of it.

 

“Very well.”  Sansa said in a cold voice even though the thought of sleeping in Tyrion’s bed made her feel flushed and tingly.

 

“I would like for Lady Jenna to be a bit more stable before we attempt to move her.  If everyone agrees to your plan my Lady, we can switch rooms tomorrow.” the maester conceded.

 

The Grand Maester made to leave and Sansa started to follow.  She did not want to talk to Tyrion, she was not ready to confront him about the events of the night.  Everyone’s emotions were heightened and she was still feeling the effects of the ale. Cooler heads would prevail in the morn.  Talking now would be a cataclysmic mistake.

 

Unfortunately,  Tyrion had other ideas.

 

*****************************************************************************************************

 

“Sansa wait,  _ please _ .”  He said, a quiet desperation coloring his words. 

 

 He  _ had  _ to talk to her to let her know that he was sorry.  She had suffered so much under the thumb of his family that he had wanted to spare her this one thing, this one last blow associated with the Lannister name.  He wanted to let her know that he knew now he should have never hidden it from her, making it worse than it was, bigger than if ever needed to be. To tell her that he was an idiot, and she had every right to be angry with him.  That panic and fear had filled him, when he heard she had gone to Flea Bottom where she had almost been gang raped and most likely killed all those years ago. That she was a fool for putting herself in danger. That he had died a little inside when he saw her tears, caused by him, because he was hopelessly in love with her.  Hopeless of course being the key word.

Sansa straightened her back pulling herself to her full height before turning and regarding him with her bright blue eyes full of hurt and anger.  

 

“Wait for what my Lord?  To hear another song that my wretched life has turned into?  For you to stop hiding things from me? For you to stop treating me like a child, a weakling?  For you to treat me as an equal? Oh yes, my Lord, I expect to be waiting for those for quite some time.”  Sansa said bitingly. Tyrion had often been accused of having a silver tongue but it’s clear that Sansa’s was more like a poisoned blade that would cut you bloodlessly but kill you slowly.  The blow of her words caused his thoughts to scatter and for once words failed him.

 

“You don’t understand.” he stammered “I was just trying to protect you.” he said moving towards her, wanting to grab her hand and hold it.  She took a half step back, crossing her arms and that little move might as well have but the Narrow Sea between them and he could feel his sad, stupid heart starting to rend open.

 

“It is not  _ your  _ job to protect me.  You are  _ not _ my brother, you are  _ not _ my father, and you are most assuredly  _ not  _ my husband!” she yelled her voice trembling.

 

Tyrion just blinked up at her as dazed as he was when Ser Mandon had sliced open his face but feeling the pain far more acutely this time.  “I suppose you’re right.” he said shakily. “But I made a vow to protect you and wrapped you in my cloak and despite the farce of our marriage, I tried to honor that.  I thought that we had at least become friends.” He said unable to hide the pain in his voice as his heart split in two.

 

“I had thought that too.  But I guess we were wrong.  Our past will never allow it.”  Sansa said hollowly. She pulled out that inane list of possible brides and held it out to him, “I think it would be best if somebody else found you a wife, perhaps your friend Lady Loreyna, or you could just marry her and end this charade.”  She said in a harsh voice making the nonsensical words she was saying sound as foreign as Dothraki to him. When he didn’t move to take it, she let it fall to the ground before turning her back to him and heading back to her rooms.

 

Too stunned to cry, he stood for a moment frozen in shock before he turned in the opposite direction to head for the Tower of the Hand.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Unbeknownst to both of them, Reyna stepped out of the shadows where she had heard the tail end of their heated discussion quite unintentionally.  She walked over, picking up the list and watching both Sansa and Tyrion head in different directions. She hesitated for a moment trying to decide if any of this was her place to interfere (probably not) and if she could watch two lonely people in pain if she could help (definitely not).  That being decided, she made her choice of who probably needed a friend the most at that moment and set out after them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guesses as to who Reyna will follow?
> 
> Hope everybody was hungry for that heaping helping of angst. It may have to last for awhile as the the next 6-8 weeks will be hell on earth at my workplace and I will be working massive OT. I will update when I can. 
> 
> Please leave a comment, I had a rough go with this chapter and would love to know what you think. Love to you all!
> 
> Foxy


	13. Reyna's story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry I didn't get this out last week for my one year anniversary of publishing on AO3 when I posted the first chapter of The Courtship Dance my other multi-chapter Sanrion fic. Instead I celebrated by contributing to the membership drive. I'm so happy I joined this crazy world of fanfic!

Sansa flew up the serpentine stairs towards Maegor’s holdfast and the safety of her room.  She wanted to escape the words she had just exchanged with Tyrion. She knew it had been a bad idea to speak with him and that between the alcohol and her emotional turmoil that she would say things she’d regret.  And she had. Not that she didn’t mean them, she had and she hadn’t. She just wished she could have talked to him with a clearer head. She knew she had hurt him, which truthfully had been her intention, and had lashed out because she was in pain and wanted him to hurt too.  This was not who she was and that caused a muffled sob to escape her mouth. She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North, who lived to serve her people. When did she become this utter disaster of a person who cried over stupid songs, said hateful things to hurt people, and pined _yes pined_ over an unobtainable man?  She hated this city, this cursed place more than ever and just wanted to go home.

 

Suddenly, Sansa found herself no longer flying up the stairs but flying through the air as she skidded on some loose stones in her hurry twisting her left knee violently and tossing her onto the large stones lining the path.  She could feel the pain from a dozen different cuts and scrapes along with whatever she had wrenched in her knee. Being Ramsey’s plaything had given her a huge tolerance to pain, but tonight it was just too much, it was the last straw and even she had her limits.  She curled up in a ball on the cold stone stairs and just wept quietly, beyond caring if anybody saw her.

 

A soft, gentle voice whispered words of reassurance in her ear while pulling her into a soft embrace.  For a moment, Sansa imagined it was her mother but the hint of Dornish accent quickly laid that to rest.  She wiped her tears to see a worried looking Reyna staring back at her.

 

“I fell.” was all Sansa could offer in explanation for her behavior, shifting her eyes to avoid her gaze.

 

Reyna looked at her sadly, putting her finger under her chin so she’d look at her.  “I saw.” But the look on her face let Sansa know that she knew these tears were about so much more than cuts and bruises.  “Let’s get you to your room Lady Sansa, it’s been a long arduous night for everybody.”

 

*******************************************************************************************

 

With Reyna’s help, she was able to get back to her room, although at a halting pace with her knee which was already beginning to ache painfully.  Her companion said little on the way back except to encourage her and Sansa was once again reminded of how much her quiet, steadying presence reminded her of Brienne.  Sansa downplayed her injury and masked the true extent of her pain to the guards at the gate, not wanting them to summon the already harried Maester or worse yet her brother.  Jon would see through her like a pane of glass in her exhaustion and she wasn’t ready for a conversation about the state of her heart until she knew it better herself. She could tell by his worried glances since their reunion a few days past that he knew something was not quite right with her.  However with his wife’s health and the intricacies of a major political summit, he had not yet had time to have a private word with her. But Sansa knew it was coming, Jon’s greatest strength and weakness was his empathetic nature and he was one of the few people who truly knew and understood her. A thought that surprised her given their distant relationship as children. 

 

Finally, she collapsed in a chair by the fire in the blissful peace of her room and turned to thank Reyna and wish her goodnight, only to find her taking a fresh linen and cutting it into bandages with a large knife that had appeared from thin air.

 

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked.

 

“That knee will need to be wrapped.”  Reyna said with a brusk tone to her voice indicating that she was not to be questioned in this regard.  “But first those cuts and scrapes need to be cleaned.” She brought over a bowl of water and started washing her arm gently removing the dirt.  “Do you have any healing salve?”

 

“I think there is some in the top drawer of my vanity.”  Sansa said as she started to clean cuts on her calf but Reyna came back and took the rag as it was clear Sansa was in no state to do anything.  With lightning efficiency she had Sansa cleaned and bandaged and was now wanting Sansa to prop her leg up on the stool she sat on so she could wrap her knee.

 

Sansa hesitated, embarrassed to show Reyna the scars that she had so readily shown the whore a few hours later.  But then again, she knew the whore understood her. She already felt threatened enough by this beautiful, exotic, confidant of Tyrion’s without displaying her own inadequacies.  But she remembered the whore’s words, and resolved not to be ashamed. She was a survivor, a warrior in her own way and had the battle scars to prove it. She hiked up her skirt to mid thigh, revealing the long, angry red scar that led from her inner knee to her woman’s place.  

 

Reyna had to have noticed the scar but did not comment on it, and started wrapping her knee with the proficiency of a maester.  Sansa couldn’t help but wonder out loud “How did you learn to do that?”

 

Reyna’s lips quirked into a little smile “My husband, Michael, lost his lower leg below the knee.  Keeping it wrapped, kept the stump from getting too chafed and sore when he used his wooden leg.” Her eyes stared dreamily into the past, and Sansa could see the abrupt pain of loss when Reyna brought herself into the present.  “I wrapped it for him every morning, despite protests he could do it himself. My fingers were more nimble than his and I enjoyed caring for him.”

 

This simple daily task of a married couple seemed utterly romantic to Sansa and something pulled at Sansa’s heartstrings and she was overcome with the desire to know this woman’s story.  “Tell me about your husband. How did you meet?”

 

Reyna looked up in surprise but her fingers remained ever steady on their work.  She must have seen the genuine interest in Sansa’s eyes. “I would be happy to my Lady.  I have learned one of the greatest tragedies of losing somebody is that people, although well meaning, don’t often mention my late husband to me.  It’s as if they think that the mention of his name will cause me to fall into despair, that if they never bring him up I will have forgotten the pain of his loss.”  She snorted somewhat bitterly at that. “As if I could ever forget, as if I would ever want to forget.”

 

“I am sorry for your loss and I understand what you mean as I have experienced the same and like nothing more than to remember my family.  But I truly would love to hear your story. Love matches our unusual for ladies of our station, and that is the only thing I have heard of your marriage.”  Sansa said kindly.

 

“I’m sure not the only thing.  My barrenness is as much common knowledge as the cruelties of the man you married last.” she said as she reached the bottom of Sansa’s scar with the wrapping.  Reyna must have felt the tension in Sansa’s leg because she quickly continued “I too have known cruel men, sadly they are in every corner of the world from the North” she held Sansa’s eyes, “to Dorne.”

 

Sansa did not speak, but a sort of understanding passed between them and Reyna started her story with a smile of remembrance on her face.  “When I was thirteen, my father wanted to strengthen his household and brought into his service several knights, including a hedge knight named Ser Russell that had proven himself in a few tourneys.  He was a very handsome man with pale skin, flaming red hair, and a full red beard. Very exotic looking to the Dornish folk, and half the women and girls were in love with him immediately, including myself.”  She smiled at the thought. “Being the Lord’s daughter, I asked for him to be my personal shield hoping that he would fall madly in love with me and make me his wife. Of course, he never did. He was a good man and would never take advantage of a foolish girl’s infatuation like that.” 

 

 “What I didn’t realize until much later, was that the whole time I was pining for Ser Russell, his squire was feeling the same for me.  Michael,” Sansa smiled to finally hear his name and see where the story was going, “was an orphan boy of no name who Ser Russell had taken into his service.  He was two years my senior, and a thin gangly young man. He was not nearly as handsome as his knight but not a bad looking boy, and I know some of my handmaidens tried to steal some kisses from him but his shyness made it impossible.  The only thing I can really remember from _before”_ Sansa could feel the ominous presence of that word “is that he was always very kind and thoughtful.  He was sweet and understanding, always anticipating mine or his knights needs. They were qualities that eventually caused me to fall in love with him but not flashy enough to catch my eye in my foolish youth.”  

 

Sansa had a brief flash of memory of Ser Loras giving her the rose at the tourney and realized that she was no different than Reyna had been in her girlhood.

 

“For my 16th nameday, my father was to hold a tourney in my honor.  It was to be a big event, and there would be a ball to follow. There would be several lords their vying for my favor and ultimately my hand. I was over the moon with excitement convinced I was about to find my true love and future husband.  I had a very specific image of how I wanted to be and look for this future love of mine and insisted on having Ser Russell and thus is squire escort me to town so I could purchase ribbons for my hair.” Reyna finished wrapping her leg, pulling Sansa’s dress down.  She then looked out the window, “Sometimes it is hard to remember what I used to be like. I both miss and pity that naive girl that rode into town for such a trivial reason that felt so damn important at the time.”

 

Reyna paused her recitation, seemingly to clean up the bandages, but Sansa sensed it had more to do with girding herself for the next part of the story.  She moved to the fireplace to burn some scraps and continued her story with her back to Sansa. “On our way back from town we were set upon by a group of nine heavily armed men.  Former sellswords, turned bandits I imagine looking for an easy target and we rode directly into their trap. Ser Russell and Michael fought bravely, taking out three of their number but there was still to many.  They were cunning men and took out Ser Russell first, knowing he was the biggest threat. They pulled me from my horse, throwing me to the ground and dragging me off the road into the woods. I turned to see four of the men surrounding me, unlacing their breeches and I _knew_ they were after more than just my gold.  I screamed and Michael seeing their intent became enraged and managed to free himself from the two remaining men to charge at us.  He was knocked down before he could reach me and one of the men drove a sword through his calf into the ground pinning him to the dirt.”

 

“The men tore at my clothing and took turns raping me, forcing Michael to watch the entire time.” She turned towards Sansa.  “I think I relived that day a thousand times for years afterwards and it’s funny how I remember the smallest things. The way the rocks dug painfully into my back, the taste of leather from the men’s gloves muffling my screams, the way the sunlight played across the leaves, the smell of blood and the foreign scent of a man’s seed.  But what I remember most of all was Michael’s tears, not my own, but his, as they savaged me.” Sansa noticed her Dornish accent becoming more pronounced and took that as a sign she was getting upset by her retelling of this story although nothing else in her continence portrayed this.

 

“Afterwards, they left us both for dead, the last man had choked me but only enough for me to lose consciousness, not my life.  When I awoke, I crawled to Michael’s side and pulled the sword from his leg with a strength born of anger and fear. I didn’t know at the time but that probably drew the dirt into his wound eventually causing him to lose his leg.  The pain of the sword being removed caused him to wake up and I used my pretty ribbons I needed so badly to make a tourniquet for his leg. I crawled into his lap in my ruined dress and that’s how my father and his men found us.”

 

“My father had us moved to a quiet seaside cottage that day and said that I had fallen ill with a  highly contagious and potentially lethal pox canceling the tourney. His lies were not untrue as I fell ill with a disease the maester’s had seen amongst less reputable brothels that lead to my monthly cycles stopping as well as any hopes of me bearing children.   The last time I saw my father he informed me he was sending me to join the Silent Sisters the next day as no man would have me for a wife now. My father had never been a loving man, and had been hateful to my mother, but any feelings of duty or love for him disappeared with those words.  I spent that last night at the cottage by Michael’s bed. His leg was badly infected and I could see the rot set in, yet they just left him to die. I prayed that night for the Stranger to take us both but instead the Warrior came in the form of my Uncle to take us to Tarth. The maester on board his ship took Michael’s leg, but saved his life in the end.” 

 

“It took both of us months to recover physically from the ordeal.  I made Michael’s rehabilitation my single minded project and spent all my time and energy during the day, nursing him back to health, helping him learn to walk on his new leg or tutoring him in reading and sums as he only had the basic scraps of knowledge.  At night, I would have terrible nightmares and took to sneaking into room to sleep on the floor where I felt safer. One night I heard him scream my name and I realized he was having nightmares too. I shook him awake and startled he grabbed my face between his hands and just whispered my name like a prayer.  And I felt _“it”._

 

 _“It?”_ Sansa asked.

 

“Yes _it_ that feeling, that wonderful single life altering feeling when you realize that you have deep feelings for another person.  I didn’t know it was love yet, I had never felt like this before and never thought it would be for the shy, sweet, squire without a family name.  But love it was. I was not the first to feel it, Michael had loved me for years, but I was the first to confess it once I acknowledged my feelings.”

 

Sansa could barely breathe, what Reyna had just described is what she felt when she realized she had feelings for Tyrion.  She had felt _it._  Was it love that she felt for her former husband, the man that she had just had a falling out with and tried to push out of her life?

 

“We married a few months later with a little cajoling on my part to my Uncle to wed his niece to a man of no name.  He could see our love and our need for each other, two broken things on the mend, so gave us his blessings and Michael a place in his household.  My wedding was simple, just a few people, not a fancy affair, and I have never experienced more joy.”

 

Sansa yawned loudly, her exhaustion catching up with her and Reyna helped her hobble over to her bed and remove her outer dress.  Sansa grabbed Reyna’s hand and squeezed it.

 

“Thank you for your kind words, your healing touch and your story my Lady.  It makes me hopeful that there are good men like your husband to be found in this world when it often feels full of those that would do wrong towards our sex.”

 

“I think you can call me Loreyna or Reyna if you like.  And I’d like to think the good men far outnumber the bad.  As for the rest, I’m glad that I could be of service. You looked like you could use a friend after your fight with Tyrion.”

 

“Unfortunately for me, I have been in the hands of more of the bad men than the good.  But now I have the freedom to be in nobody’s hands.” She paused a minute realizing what Reyna had said.  “You heard us fighting?”

 

Reyna smiled sadly and sat on Sansa’s bed.  “Personally, I liked the freedom to be able to hold the hand of the man I loved in partnership but we all have our own lives to live.  And yes I accidentally heard the very end of it.”

 

“I was hurt and angry.”

 

“It’s really none of my business, except the last part about Tyrion and I marrying.”

 

“He’d be good to you and you are already friends.  I fail to see what the issue is.” Sansa said trying to sound practical but in her heart she didn’t want Tyrion to marry anybody.

 

Reyna looked at her like she was daft.  “If you had ever experience a love like I had you wouldn't settle for anything less.  I don’t feel that for Tyrion and he deserves so much more than a wife that is still in love with a ghost.”

 

“I suppose that’s true.”  Sansa said with a sigh. Reyna stood up and headed for the door wishing her a good night.  Sansa found herself calling after her.

 

“Reyna….after what happened to you were you able to” Sansa blushed furiously “perform your duties as a wife on your wedding night?”

 

Reyna gave her a wide smile. “I knew in his arms I was safe and loved.   While no children were ever to be conceived despite our dearest hope for a miracle,  I only found love and pleasure in my marriage bed.”

 

**********************************************************************************************************

 

Despite the drama of the night, her pain both emotional and physical, Sansa fell into a deep long slumber and was awoken the next morning to what she thought was a rude servent flinging open her chamber door.

 

Groggily, with the edge of a hangover she said angrily “I am not well, please leave or I shall report you to my brother the King.”

 

“Will you now?”  said a masculine amused voice.

 

Realizing her folly, she pulled the pillow over her head as Jon came over to her bed.  “I’m not well, go away Jon.” she said through her pillow.

 

“It’s a hangover my dear sister.  The ale in Flea Bottom is quite strong.”

 

“How much do you know?”

 

“Enough.  More than I want to in fact.”  Sansa pried open her bloodshot eyes and could see the worry in Jon’s face.  “I promise not to lecture you little sister if you promise to not do such a foolish thing again.” Jon said unhappily.

 

“It was foolish I admit, but I was never in danger.  Have you seen the giant eunuch that Ser Bronn employs?”

 

“Sansa….”  Jon said and Sansa could hear the concern in his voice.

 

“Fine, I promise.  Just spare me the lecture.  I’m tired of being treated like a child.” She sat up to address him noticing how late it was in the day.  “How is Lady Jenna this morning?”

 

“The Grand Maester believes her to be out of danger and will  be ready to move into these quarters this afternoon if you are still agreeable.”

 

“Yes, yes of course.”

 

“And you will be moving to the Hand’s Tower?  To Tyrion’s room while he moves to his office?”

 

“It was his idea.  So I suppose so.” Sansa replied.

 

“Are you sure that is a good idea?  I was also informed you had a bit of a row with him last night as well.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that Varys hasn’t lost his touch.”  Sansa said sarcastically. “It will be fine Jon, I shared a room with that man for months when we were married and hardly spoke.  I think we’ll be fine being in the same building for a few weeks after a quarrel.” Sansa said downplaying how bad and hurtful the fight had actually been.

 

“I’ll have the maids and porters freshen and switch the rooms in two hours.  Daenerys would like you to come over and get ready for the ball tonight in her dressing room along with a few other ladies of the court so she doesn’t feel so ‘left out and rotund’.”

 

“The ball, it’s tonight?”  Sansa said in disbelief.  

 

“Yes it’s the end of the opening week, like we discussed.  I’ll need you to be my partner and lead the dances tonight.”

 

“If my knee allows it, I’d be happy to.”

 

“Your knee?”

 

“It’s good to hear that Varys isn’t omnipotent like our little brother, but yes I injured by knee last night. Lady Loreyna got me back to my rooms and wrapped it up.”  Sansa stood to test her weight on it and found she was able to walk. “I imagine it will be OK as long as the steps aren’t too intricate.”

 

“You’ll be dancing with me, so that would be a no.”  Jon said laughing and heading out the door. “And Sansa…”

 

“Yes, my annoying brother/King?” said Sansa to Jon’s retreating figure.

 

“We are also going to have a long overdue chat tonight about whatever’s been bothering you.  And don’t try to deny it. I know something is not right in your world.” Jon said closing the door before she could protest.

 

Sansa sighed heavily in exasperation and tossed her pillow at the door.  It was going to be another long night.

  


  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm exhausted and amazed I got out a chapter this month considering the amount I'm working. 
> 
> Comments would be greatly appreciated beyond measure.
> 
> Tyrion is up next chapter.


	14. Consequences of our actions

Tyrion had every intention of getting completely obliterated on the Dornish Red he had squirreled away in his room, but his plans were foiled by the lanky blonde that occupied his bed.  Actually, it was two blondes he realized as he got to the side of the bed and could see both Jaime and young Selwyn sleeping on the furs in identical positions with their arms thrown over their heads.  Tyrion stared at Jaime in disbelief. Even in sleep he was beautiful and Tyrion tried to tamp down any resentment and envy he had for his brother. He hadn’t had an easy life either despite the advantages he had over Tyrion and if it wasn’t for his brother’s love he doubts he would have survived his childhood.  

 

Despite years of peace, Jaime still had the instincts of a soldier and opened his eyes quickly sensing another presence in the room.  Taking one look at Tyrion’s wearied and anguished face, he assessed his mood quickly and moved to the sideboard to pour them both a glass of wine.  Tyrion downed it in one gulp, causing Jaime to raise an eyebrow. He poured him another and said “Make this one last little brother. It’s very late and there is much to do tomorrow that would best not be faced with a hangover.”

 

With a quick glance to make sure Selwyn was still sleeping peacefully, Jamie moved to a set of chairs flanking the banked fire and stretched out his long legs indicating for Tyrion to join him.  Wishing he had the entire flask of wine rather than a single glass, Tyrion crawled into the chair feeling the events of the night physically overwhelm him as he sighed in exhaustion. He stared at Jaime blearily  “Why are you and your miniature doppelganger in my room, monitoring my wine intake?”

 

“I gleaned enough from Gendry’s and Podrick’s hushed conversation before they fetched you to know that Bronn’s wife was in serious trouble and that he was drinking down in Flea Bottom.  He’s a royal pain in the ass, but he’s saved my hide on more than one occasion so I consider him a friend. I was waiting up for you to hear the news when Selwyn woke crying. I took him out of the nursery to not wake Joanna and the next thing I know I wake to see my brother wearing a look more despondent than he ever did even in the black cells.”  Jaime looked at him and said in a voice laced with concern and worry “ _ What  _ happened Tyrion?”

 

“Lady Jenna almost lost the baby as well as her own life.  We were able to fetch Bronn and get him back to her as she regained consciousness.  If she can gain her strength back they should both survive.” He paused staring into his wine glass.  “The damn fool finally realized he was in love with her too. It only took thinking that he lost her.”  Tyrion chuckled at the bitter similarity. He too had finally admitted to himself that he was in love with Sansa just as she had become lost to him.

 

“While I am relieved and thrilled for Bronn, this…” Jaime gestured animatedly at the scowl on Tyrion’s face “tells me that there is far, far more to this story.  So I say again Tyrion,  _ what happened?”   _ By his tone and the intense look on his face, Tyrion knew that Jaime would keep at him until he had the truth of it.

 

Tyrion tilted his head and drowned his second glass of wine, praying for the alcohol to numb his broken heart but knowing that no amount would ever dull the pain.  He let out a choked laugh, “I fucked up, like I always do.” He cocked his head looking at Jaime “Did you know what our father told me? He said the day I was born, the day I killed our mother, he wanted to carry me out into the ocean and let the waves wash me away.  I suppose he’s happy now in one of the seven hells, knowing he was right and I wish he had done it too. The world would be the better for it, I do believe, without the Lannister Imp to pollute it so.”

 

Angrily, Jaime stood up and braced his arms on the sides of Tyrion’s chair.  Piercing him with his green eyes so very similar to his own he said “I ask you NOT to speak of my brother that way.  Our father was a fool, damn him, and so are you. We have all fucked up, myself more than others. But you and I are lucky, as we have each other to help us clean up our messes.  For Gods, sake Tyrion please tell me  _ what happened?”  _ Jaime hissed, his voice cracking.  “I can’t help you unless you tell me.”

 

So Tyrion did.  He told him everything that transpired.  The song, Sansa’s tears, the crazy ride after Bronn, offering his room up to Sansa, and last of all the fight that tore his soul to shreds.  When he was done he turned to Jaime to see him taking a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks and blowing it out slowly, before shifting to meet his eyes.  “Well, you did rightly fuck that up brother, there’s no denying that.”

 

“I know. I should have told her about that cursed song.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Jaime said

 

“I was trying to protect her from one last blow from our family.”  Tyrion spit out angrily.

 

“This is a woman who has survived my monstrous spawn, the machinations of our sister and father, and a husband that got off on torture.  She outwitted Petyr Baelish and battled wights with you in the crypt. What makes you think she needs protection from a bawdy song?”

 

“She was crying ...it upset her.”  Tyion said staring at his hands and feeling very stupid.

 

“Of course it upset her and more over she’s allowed to be upset.  She’s allowed to cry and scream and curse and yell. She’s allowed to feel and process things in her own way.  And,” he glanced at Tyrion “be angry at the man that chose to hide this thing from her, treating her like a child.”  Jaime continued, “When you were wed, I would not have blamed you for this action. She was little more than a child and it would have been appropriate being her de facto guardian.”

 

“I think she viewed me more as a warden.” Tyrion said glumly.

 

“Nevertheless, she is no longer that girl, but a woman formidable in her own right.  And  _ you  _ are no longer her husband.”

 

“Don’t you think I know that Jaime?”  Tyrion hissed. Of course he knew she was a woman.  Her soft curves and sharp mind only occupied his waking thoughts and his dreams.  

 

“Than why are you treating her as such.”

 

Tyrion sighed, “Because I’m a moron when it comes to women.”

 

“No, little brother.  You are a moron when it comes to love.”

 

Tyrion’s eyes shifted, no longer looking at Jaime.  “I’m not sure what you are saying.”

 

“Yes, you do, and don’t bother to deny it.  I wasn’t entirely sure until you told me the events of the night but it’s clear now.”

 

“Enlighten me oh sage one.”  Tyrion said sarcastically.

 

“You’re in love with her.  You’re in love with Sansa.” Jaime said firmly but quietly.

 

Tyrion sat numbly as Jaime’s words rattled around his mind on an endless loop until a stifled sob escaped his throat.  Burying his head in his hands, the long fought off tears finally streamed down his face. Love. What a curse, what a blessed curse to fall in love again with a woman so far beyond his grasp.  Perhaps, he could have learned to live with unrequited love much like the Prince’s namesake, but now he had lost her friendship as well and that was a blow from which he would not recover. After a few minutes of crying, he dried his eyes and said as much to Jaime, who just looked at him sadly and pushed his mostly full glass of wine over to him.  Tyrion just shook his head. Wine wouldn’t fix this, he wasn’t sure anything would.

 

“The question” Jaime said, “is what are you going to do about it?”

 

“I already apologized.  I don’t know what else to do.”  Tyrion said already feeling beyond help.  

 

“Did you apologize?”  Jaimie said doubtfully.  “Seems to me that you just justified your actions.”

 

Tyion replayed the dreadful conversation in his mind. “I meant to, just ...when she reacted so angrily my words just scattered.”

 

“Well you can start there and I also think she’ll also be more receptive in the light of day.  Speaking to her when you both were so worked up was a huge mistake.”

 

“I know that now.”  He rubbed his face. “What do you suggest I do?  I’m not even sure if she’ll give me the time of day to apologize now after this fiasco.”  He looked at Jaimie imploringly, “I need to have her in my life. It doesn’t matter how, it doesn’t matter if I will always wish for more than she can offer me.  But the thought of not seeing her, laughing with her, hearing her thoughts, listening to her hopes and dreams for her people, getting a thrill whenever I get a raven from her….I just can’t bear it!”  

 

Jaime’s face softened and he spent a few moments processing Tyrion’s words before offering up a suggestion.  “Perhaps if you write your words down, they won’t fly away so easily this time.”

 

“A letter?”  Tyrion asked creasing his brow as he pondered the thought.  He was good with words, both written and speaking except last night when Sansa lashed his heart with her razor sharp tongue.  A letter could let him organize his thoughts and focus. It was actually a good idea, a very good idea. And he knew just how to get it in to her hands.

 

A sleepy cry from the bed ended the conversation.  As Jaime scooped up his son from Tyrion’s bed, he said “I think this little one is ready to be fed and I think you have a letter to write.  Goodnight Tyrion.”

 

“Goodnight Jaime.”  He gulped and gave his brother a sad smile. “And thank you.”

 

“For what?  Listening to your woes or pointing out you follies?”  Jaime said with a playful glint in his eyes.

 

“Yes to both.”

 

“What else are big brothers for?”  Jaime said as he turned to join his wife in bed with their infant son.  Tyrion wondered if he’d ever be so lucky. He knew that Sansa would never return his feelings for her, but he was going to at least try to win back her friendship.  Winning her heart, well that was just a mummer’s dream.

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

The next morning found Tyrion up and about at his usual early morning hours despite the lack of meetings for the Summit.  Today was to be a day of leisure before the ball, giving all the opportunity to rest or catch up on non-Summit business. Apparently, it was also a day to shop Tyrion thought as he fought his way through the crowds to make his way to the shop of the jeweler, Sal, he had used in the past.  There were a few people browsing the cases being helped by his daughter, and Sal greeted him with a nod indicating he would be with him in a few moments. While Sal worked with his current customer, Tyrion pulled up a stool and was soon joined by his wife, Linda, an outgoing and busty woman of age close to Tyrion’s.

 

“I just have a repair, might I drop it off with you?” he asked.

 

“Oh of course, milord!”  She held out her hand for the dragonfly necklace he pulled from his pocket.   She admired the pendant. “If milord is interested in getting the lady a matching bracelet I believe we have a dragonfly charm.”

 

“A charm?”  Tyrion questioned.  Linda took delight in showing him her charm bracelet with each figure (a flower, a cat, a starburst etc) representing one of her children or other family.  Feeling inspired, Tyrion began to sketch out some other charms and before he knew it Sal was telling him that he could pick up the necklace in a few days but the bracelet would be at least a fortnight.  Although, it quickly changed to a week when he took a look at Tyrion’s sketches and realized that this would be for a member of the King’s family.

 

Tyrion agreed to a price for both and said he would be back in a week to pick them up.  He also mentioned to the jeweler that he’d most likely be bringing a young man with him upon return to pick out a wedding ring for a young lady and that he’d be most obliged if they’d give the young man a price far below the ring’s value and Tyrion would pay the rest.  He owes this man a debt he said, and this time he’d see it paid off.

 

That being done, he returned to the Hand’s Tower to start the temporary move into his office.  Somehow, his staff had procured him a child’s cot (plenty large for him) and he was thrilled to not have to sleep on the settee despite his bluster last night.  It took a few trips more to procure some clothes and other personal effects to his office. He did some work afterwards but was conscious of the upheaval in his personal quarters as the maids scurried about to prep his room for Sansa’s stay and the porters hauled her trunks into his room.  Eventually, the activity died down and Tyrion stood outside the door to inspect the progress.

 

It was strange and painful to see her things mingled with his own, to see her dresses hanging in his wardrobe next to the few items of his own still hanging there.  There was a basket of her embroidery sitting next to some of his books on a table by the fire and the sight made his heart ache for what would never be. When finally the last maid left, after arranging some fresh flowers, Tyrion unlocked the bottom drawer of the small desk in his room.  He extracted the doll and staring at it said a silent prayer (or perhaps more an apology) to Ned Stark wherever he was for failing to protect his daughter when she  _ did  _ need it (and for pissing her off thoroughly when she no longer did.)   A second prayer, more like a wish or a plea, for forgiveness and for the return of her friendship passed his lips as he pinned the letter of apology he had written to Sansa (as well as his hopes) to the doll.  He left the room, making sure the doll was the first thing she’d see upon entering, hoping fervently that his heartfelt letter would be enough to regain a bit of what he had lost.

 

******************************************************************************************************** 

 

Joanna was not having a good day, not a good day  _ at  _ all. Selwyn’s teeth were coming in according to Mama and he was screaming his head off about it.  All she wanted was somebody to read her a story, and all the grown-ups were busy. She felt like all the grown-ups did was go  to meetings or fuss over Selwyn and it was making her cranky. She went to the common room hoping to find Uncle Tyri, or even that funny knight, Ser Podrick, to read to her and found it empty.  Disappointed, she decided to try Uncle Tyri’s room before she gave up and that’s when she saw  _ her. _

 

Sitting on Uncle Tyri’s bed was the most beautiful doll Joanna had ever seen.  Joanna crawled onto the bed using her uncle’s footstool and gathered the doll in her arms.  She was perfect. Her clothes and face looked brand new, not chipped or torn like Joy’s old doll.  Joanna didn’t have any of her own dolls. She wanted to be just like Mama, and she had heard her tell Papa she never liked playing with dolls.  So Joanna wouldn’t have one either and never asked for one for her nameday (even though she really wanted one.) A few months ago Cousin Joy gave her one of her old dolls, named Cassidy, and she loved her to pieces.  She would spend hours in her room playing pretend or taking Cassidy with her to explore Casterly Rock when she could escape her Septa. She had to leave her at home when they got on the big ship to her dismay. Mama asked her what toys she wanted to bring and she didn’t want to disappoint her by bringing a doll.

 

But this doll, this lovely doll, had never been played with.  Joanna admired her, combing her hair with her fingers wondering why there was a doll on Uncle Tyri’s bed.  She giggled when the answer occurred to her! She was for her of course! Who else? Selwyn was just a baby and everybody else was a grown-up.  She saw a note pinned to the doll but she only make out the “S” at the beginning, the rest was in that squiggly writing. “Is your name Sally?” she asked the doll.  The doll just smiled back at her and she sighed in happiness, cradling the doll to her chest. Leaving her book of fairy tales forgotten on the bed, she took her treasured new friend and the letter addressed to Sansa to her room to play blissfully unaware (as children often are) of the consequences of her actions.

  
  


******************************************************************************************************

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Sansa-  _

 

_ What feels like a lifetime ago, I was forced to marry a child less than half my age.  She was lovely, no doubt, a girl on the cusp of womanhood, a great beauty in fact, but a girl nevertheless.   I had seen my family attempt to break this poor girl time and time again, yet she stayed strong in the Lion’s den.  I vowed that I would not be a lion that would savage her, and promised her the only thing I could on that fateful day--That I wouldn’t ever hurt her. _

 

_ Yet here we are, eight years later, and I broke my promise.  I hurt her, that girl who is now a woman, and one of my dearest friends.   I hurt her because I was still trying to protect that girl, that child who was forced to hide her dolls and be thrust into womanhood by marrying an old dwarf.  But that girl is gone, and a woman of unimaginable strength, intelligence, and fortitude has taken her place. Such a formidable woman doesn’t need the protection of anyone, especially her impish former husband, from hurtful words.  Maybe she just needed a friend to tell her the truth and I failed miserably in that regard because I was just to stupid to realize that fact. _

 

_ I am sorry, dear Sansa, to a degree that I’m not sure I can get you to comprehend in this letter alone.  The thought of not having you in my life makes any misery I claimed before pale in comparison. I however understand your words from last night.  If you truly feel that our past history will not allow us to be friends I will respect you wishes despite the grief I will feel. _

 

_ Uncertain of my fate, I leave this note for you to find.  A word, a look, this evening at the ball will be enough to know if I am forgiven enough to begin to repair what I have broken. _

 

_ Your humble friend, _

 

_ Tyrion _

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read Persuasion by Jane Austen, you are missing out. Captain Wentworth's letter makes my heart melt every time and in many ways I prefer it to P&P. I couldn't resist putting a dash of it in Tyrion's letter.
> 
>  
> 
> My goal is usually two chapters a month and I am just making my self imposed deadline. Work is still crazy but if I could pull it off this month I hope to pull it off next month.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments and Kudos are the only reward fanfic writers get other than making our stories come to life so I'd love to hear from my readers. Thank you!


	15. An optical illusion

The veined marble of the statue was nearly translucent and almost exactly matched the shade of the Queen’s actual pale skin and silver locks.  Her eyes blazed lavender from the amethyst gems while three young dragons adorned her body with eyes of emerald, amber, and onyx providing the only color in the statue.  The King’s statue and that of his wolf were of the same stone with Ghost’s eyes of ruby and Jon’s eyes a smoky brown topaz. While the face of both were done very well, clearly by a skilled artist who had studied the royal couple well, Sansa noticed that a great many attributes were embellished.  Both of them were taller than in a real life, Jon considerably so. It was the only time Sansa had looked up to her elder brother since they were children she realized with a smile. The Queen also looked bustier and Sansa wondered if she would be flattered or annoyed with the artistic liberties of the sculptor.  Both of the statues presided over the ball and the long tables of food that were set up in front of them. 

 

Sansa made herself a plate under the unblinking gemstone eyes, her appetite finally returning as the lingering hangover finally cleared.  With her knee still a bit tender, she moved slowly to the royal dais where she sat for the night in Daenerys’s spot at Jon’s side. Fortunately, besides the obligatory opening dance of the ball that Jon was expected to lead, Sansa had not had to tax it much and in some ways was relieved to be able to claim fatigue and injury to avoid any well meaning dance partners.  Normally she loved to dance, but her heart just wasn’t in it. There was only one man whose arms she craved and he stood a stranger to her on the opposite side of the room with his family. 

 

A sigh escaped her lips as she watched the Lannister party out of the corner of her eye.  Somehow, they had all been occupied elsewhere or perhaps avoiding her when she came to inspect her lodgings earlier. She had spent as little time there as possible.  After seeing her things mixed with Tyrion’s, as it had been when they were wed, she fled as soon as possible to the Queen’s quarters to dress as not dwell on what was once and what might have been.  She had found a book of children’s fairy tales on Tyrion’s newly made bed and wondered who had left it. Perhaps Joanna was welcoming her to the Tower, the thought was the only thing that cheered her.  That and the sight of Ser Bronn tenderly carrying his fragile bride up the serpentine stairs to Sansa’s old room where she could rest and recover in privacy under the watchful eye of the Grand Maester and the Queen’s army of midwives.

 

Sansa had done her best that night as the young women gathered in the Queen’s chambers, to muster the slightest bit of enthusiasm for the ball.  The years under her Septa and mother’s tutelage had given her the tools to fake social niceties in such situations and the years as Cersei’s hostage had honed it to perfection.  There were very few that could see her bleeding under her armour of courtesies, thank the Gods. Fortunately, the buoyant enthusiasm of both Joy Lannister and Talla Tarley, at the prospect of the night dancing with their handsome, young, and most-likely-husbands-to-be was enough to mask any chinks in her armor.  Sansa had never felt so old and tired and yes...envious. When she had been their age she had already been married twice, and gone to war for her home against the living and the dead. She had lived enough for three lifetimes in her teens, but in none of them did she get to just be free to be a young woman excited to be courted.  Well, at least not after her father lost his head and she learned that monsters truly did exist in the guise of handsome princes.

 

Sansa soon found herself being joined by her Aunt Roslyn while Uncle Edmure joined Jon and some other Lords that were having some sort of lively discussion that involved boasting about their skill with a blade.  Rosalyn was a quiet soul, only a few years Sansa’s senior, whose company she had come to enjoy. She also found her to be a good influence upon her somewhat pompous Uncle as well as her cousin Robin with whom she had formed a strange but close bond.  Sansa suspected it had much to do with learning to live with the awful results of their parents choices.

 

“How are you and my Uncle enjoying your time in King’s Landing?”  Sansa queried politely. She was listening to her Aunt but couldn’t help that her roaming eyes kept returning to the Lannister party.  While she had been the one to storm away in her fury the night before, she still felt that Tyrion was in the wrong. However, she did concede that the circumstances surrounding their quarrel had lead to an overreaction on her part.  No matter how she felt for him, if he could not see her as more than the terrified young girl he had married, there was no hope for a future friendship or otherwise between them. So she waited on a sign from him, some sort of apology, an acknowledgment that he actually knew why she was so upset.

 

Rosalyn answered unaware that Sansa’s eyes and thoughts had drifted to the small man across the room. “Edmure quite enjoys it. Had he accepted the Master of Laws position offered by their Graces I think he would have thrived here while I can’t wait to go home.  Riverrun has only been my home for a few years but it’s the only place I’ve been truly happy in my life.”

 

“Uncle Edmure turned down a position on the council?”  Sansa said shocked. He had always seemed like a man that would want the power and authority that a council seat would give him.

 

“Yes, he knew that I would be unhappy in King’s Landing and with neither of us willing to part from the other” she blushed shyly casting her smiling eyes at her husband “he declined. He is a good husband and an excellent father and he put his family above his ambitions.  That is the Tully motto is not? Family, duty, honor.”

 

Sansa felt humbled then and kicked herself for judging her Uncle because of his blusterous personality.  If only her father had done the same and been in a position to refuse King Robert But he hadn’t known that becoming hand would destroy his family, or he would have never left Winterfell.  “I am glad you two have found happiness in your marriage and at Riverrun.”

 

“No one is more surprised than I,” said Roslyn with a smile.  “We are fortunate, like your parents, to have found love in our arranged marriage with time and effort.  Not all are as lucky.”

 

“Yes, most arranged marriages end up with both parties tolerating each other at best, which is why we find ourselves at a ball at a political summit.  The Queen is hoping that it will lead to more love matches or at the very least marriages that are entered into by both parties willingly after spending time together.  Speaking of which, how is my dear cousin fairing with the Ladies?” Sansa teased, finally tearing her eyes from Tyion’s whereabouts to locate Robin and the party from the Vale.  Robin was preening under the attention of several young Ladies while his heir Harold appraised the women in the room in what felt like a predatory manner. As if sensing her gaze, he caught her eye, giving her a blazing wolfen smile that caused the blood to freeze in her veins.

 

“He is of course enjoying the attention, but I think he is far too young and still too damaged to be looking to take a wife.  He needs to learn to be a man on his own first and not just find a surrogate wife/mother to take over for him. I do wish you would give him more credit.  He’s trying to become a good legacy to his father while being hampered by the lingering effects of his mother’s madness on his childhood. There is also that terrible Harold Hardyng’s influence to contend with too.” Rosalyn said animatedly “Do you know that awful man invited me to warm his bed not more than a few feet from my husband?” She said in disgust. “I tried to play it off as a flirtatious jape, but I think he was serious.”

 

Sansa hear pounded rapidly before replying, remembering her terrible trip to the Vale  “ I’m sure he was quite serious. That man seems to think he is the Gods’ gift to the women of Westeros.  He also thinks that “no” means “yes”. I believe you have some young women traveling with your party. Make sure they know that he is a lech not to be trusted.” 

 

Her Aunt studied her face closely as if looking for the story behind the words.  “I have already let my opinion of him be known but I will keep that under advisement.”  Roslyn stared at her hands looking as if something was weighing on her mind. “I have come to learn a few things from one of the elderly housekeepers at Riverrun about Lady Lysa and what may have started her decline.  Robin has a lot of anger and resentment towards his mother and I am wondering if I should tell him so he could understand her better.”

 

“Robin is not the only one with a lot of anger towards Aunt Lysa.  The woman tried to murder me because her lecherous husband made advances on me.  I doubt there is much you could tell that would make me feel sorry for her.” Sansa said dismissively.

 

“Even if I told you that her father forced her to abort Peter Baelish’s bastard and then sold her off as damaged goods to a man old enough to be her grandfather?  And that all the Tansy tea she was forced to drink lead to a weakened womb and multiple miscarriages? That this is why she babied Robin so? I do not think this excuses her behavior or explains the full extent of her madness but it makes a lot of things make more sense.”

 

Sansa sat in stunned silence feeling a fool before choosing her words carefully  “You should tell him. Despite her madness, she loved him and he needs to be reminded of that.”  She frowned some more, “The more I learn of my Grandfather Tully the more I dislike him.” Sansa said thinking of what he had said about Tyrion as well as what he had done to poor Lysa.

 

“I’m sure he thought he was acting in her best interest.  Becoming a parent doesn’t make you any less of a flawed person.  Plus, I understand that act cost him his daughter’s love and haunted him his whole life.”  Roslyn said gently and Sansa felt rightfully chastised.

 

“If Uncle Edmure doesn’t share in equal rule with you of the Riverlands, he is a fool.  You have a natural insight to other’s minds and have the capacity to see all sides of a situation.”  Sansa complimented enjoying the flush of pleasure on Roslyn’s cheeks. “I will be sure to communicate this to the Queen.  I know she was hoping for a marriage for cousin Robin soon but I think you’re right that he needs to come into his own before that happens.  I will also see what I can do about lessening Harold’s influence on Robin. Perhaps a tour of the free cities or a trumped up mission from the crown?”  Sansa thought out loud.

 

Uncle Edmure collected Roslyn for a dance and Sansa felt the need for some fresh air to clear her mind.  Nodding her head to the balcony to let Jon know where she was headed, she declined several indications to dance before embracing the cool, brisk springtime night air.  She was sure most of the attendees would be chilled, but Sansa found strength in the cold in this reminder of her home in the North.

 

She was admiring the view of the waves crashing on the shore, while her mind drifted to thoughts of the last day.   Thoughts of Reyna and how she found love in the midst of tragedy, thoughts of Jenna and Bronn who had almost lost something dear but instead had gained something wonderful.  But mostly she thought of Tyrion, and if they had finally found an obstacle that they couldn’t overcome so close to her realizing that she felt more for him than a friend should feel.

 

Sansa heard footsteps approaching her from behind and her irrational heart started pounding in the hopes it was Tyrion.   Just as she realized the stride was too long to be Tyrion’s she felt imprisoned on all sides by a strong masculine body. A large hand covered hers that clung to the wall and panic gripped her as she realized that she was unable to get her knife out with the man at her back and his hand blocking access.

 

With his other hand he swept Sansa’s hair to the side before laying a kiss on her neck, and Sansa shuddered in revulsion which she sure the rake took as desire.  A familiar voice whispered, “Miss me beautiful?” and Sansa found herself reliving the horrors of the Vale anew as Harold Hardyng had cornered her yet again. 

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

“Did you write the letter?”  Jaime asked while admiring his wife dancing with Podrick.

 

“Of course, I did.”  hissed Tyrion quietly.  “She has clearly read it and wants nothing to do with me. She has avoided meeting my eyes all night.”

 

“Are you sure she got it?” Jaime asked dubiously.  “You sure made yourself scarce when she came to the Tower.”

 

“It’s gone, I checked.   It didn’t just sprout wings and fly away.”  Tyrion said drolly and miserably.

 

“Perhaps she’s just waiting for a private moment to talk to you.”  Jaime said optimistically.

 

Tyrion paused the loop of self hatred and doubt in his head that had been running nonstop since the beginning of the ball and grabbed ahold of this tendril of hope.  At that moment he saw Sansa moving to one of the balconies, motioning to Jon that she was stepping out for some fresh air. Jaime too noticed the movement and gave Tyrion a little shove of encouragement,  “Go or you’ll regret it.”

 

Cursing his short legs for the millionth time,  it took Tyrion far longer than he would like to make his way along the periphery of the room to the balcony on the opposite side.  He was stopped several times with greetings and introductions and was convinced Sansa would come back inside before he got there. Finally he broke through the crowd and made his way onto the balcony.

 

The sight in front of him burned into both his retinas and his soul.  Sansa Stark was in a lover’s embrace with that debauched playboy, Harold Hardyng, and Tyrion sagged in grief, gripping onto the door.  He should have turned then and walked away but he couldn’t stop staring. They just looked so right together both of them being so attractive, fair and tall.  Not at all like when she was paired with the grotesque gargoyle he was that couldn’t even cloak her properly when they wed.

 

The disturbing thing was that the longer he stared, the more he realized something was deeply amiss.  It reminded him of one of those optical illusion drawings that could be two different images depending on how you looked at it.  He could see little of Sansa but it was the stiffness of her head and neck (not at all like a woman having a clandestine romantic moment) that triggered every instinct he had that this embrace was not welcomed by her.

 

Wishing he had the size and strength to peel the bastard off of her and toss him to the sea below, he used the only tool he had at his disposal.  Clearing his throat he said in his booming baritone as loud as possible “Lady Stark, are you quite alright?” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know I truly suck for taking so long to update, for a short chapter, for not resolving the last cliffhanger and giving you another one (OK I don't feel bad about the last one heehee.) I promise this cliffhanger will be resolved in the next chapter as well as the long overdue Jon/Sansa conversation. At least that's the plan.
> 
> When the next chapter will happen, I can't make any promises.
> 
> Keep the ship afloat!


	16. No longer a damsel

“Why don’t you mind your own business Imp?”  Hardyng said snidely as he turned his head to address Tyrion.

 

“I wasn’t talking to you.  I was talking to Lady Sansa.  I ask again, are you alright my Lady?”  Sansa could hear the concern in Tyrion’s voice as he addressed her.

 

Tyrion, of course, it was him to find her like this, helpless, vulnerable.  Her dashing knight at last, that she had dreamt of for so long, but now she no longer wanted to be the damsel in distress.  The fairy tales never talked of after...after the knight rescues the maiden now what? A lifetime of subjugation or being treated like a hothouse flower who could wilt at the slightest thing?  The woman she had become didn’t want the fairy tale and she didn’t want to be the helpless maiden awaiting rescue. But most of all she wanted this bastard to stop touching her!!  

 

“She is quite alright I assure you  _ Lannister.”  _ Hardyng said with scorn.  “We’re just catching up after the fun we had together in the Vale where I showed her what it’s like to be with a real man,”  He turned to face Tyrion more clearly, loosening his grip on Sansa in the process “not a half of one.”

 

It was the opportunity Sansa had been looking for, that she had learned the fundamentals of from Arya years ago and more recently had made a flustered Podrick drill with her until she was satisfied. With a backwards thrust, she elbowed him in the gut causing him to let out a startled grunt while he moved far enough away for her to twirl around to face him, her stiletto knife piercing the fabric of his breeches a hair’s width from his manhood.

 

“I assure you my Lord” she seethed, “I had no fun with you when I visited the Vale, and a real man, like Lord Tyrion, does not force himself upon a woman when they tell them “NO.”  She gave him a ruefull smile “How stupid are you really? Do you think the rumors of what I did to my last husband an exaggeration? I promise you they were not.”

 

“You truly are as much of a frigid Northern bitch as they say you are.” he growled but she could see the glimmer of fear in his eyes.  “It’s no wonder Bolton had to break you in rough or his cock would have frozen off.”

 

Humiliated and incensed by his words, Sansa lost focus for a split second and Harrold seized upon the opportunity crushing her wrist in his strong grip until the knife clattered to the stone.  Panic filled her and she looked desperately for Tyrion, unable to see him past the large brute.

 

“I suggest you unhand Lady Sansa immediately  _ Ser  _ or” Tyrion spoke warningly.

 

“Or what dwarf?”

 

Just then a disembodied golden hand being wielded like a club smashed into the side of Harrold’s head.  “Or his good-sister is going to lay you out flat.” came the voice of a triumphant and furious sounding Lady Brienne as Ser Hardyng crumpled to the ground in a heap.

 

Brienne was the portrait of a warrior goddess in her flowing gown as she stared down in disgust at the man at her feet.  Behind Brienne stood Ser Jaime, who rather than looking sheepish that his wife had brandished his false hand as a weapon, stared at her with unabashed lust and adoration.  Brienne kicked Hardyng and satisfied that he was out cold, handed her impromptu weapon back to her husband.

 

“Always happy to lend my wife a hand.” Jaime quipped, causing looks of exasperation and annoyance from both Tyrion and Brienne.   “Perhaps it’s best if I just go fetch King Jon and some of the Kingsguard.” he said pointing towards the door with his right hand clutched in his left before making a hasty exit.

 

Sansa, on the other hand, started giggling somewhat hysterically at Jaime’s comment and frankly the whole scene.  Brienne rushed forward to gather her in her arms and pulled her to a bench where Sansa’s knees finally gave out. Her giggles quickly turned into shallow breathing as she started to hyperventilate and couldn’t catch her breath causing the panic to escalate.  She could vaguely hear Brienne talking to her over the pounding of the blood rushing through her ears but it was Tyrion’s voice that finally breached the fear.

 

“Sansa” he said firmly, his voice strong and rich, “breathe slowly---- sloooowwwly, in... and out, in and out.” he grabbed her hand and she clutched onto it as if to a lifeline.  She had closed her eyes as the dread overwhelmed her and opened them to see his beautiful green eyes so full of concern for her staring back at her own. Gods, was he always this handsome?  

 

“It’s ok Sansa, it’s ok.  Keep breathing slowly.” He squeezed her hand and she marveled at how  _ good  _ and  _ kind  _ and  _ clever  _ this wonder of a man was.  He had  _ known  _ something was wrong when he saw her.  How did he know her so well and why oh why had she yelled at him so terribly the night before?   It was stupid, it was all so stupid, and she was still the stupid girl with her same stupid girlish dreams who never should have left Winterfelll for the South again.

 

Tyrion dropped her hand, leaving Sansa feeling bereft, as Jon and two of his Kingsguard came flying out onto the balcony followed by Jaime.  Jon rushed to Sansa’s side grasping her face in his hands his eyes searching her for any injury. “Are you hurt?” he said, his voice low and fearful and his eyes full of love for her. Nodding an affirmative, she thought that if anybody had told her ten years ago, that the sibling she would be closest to would be Jon, she would have laughed in their face.  For all the horror she had endured these last few years, this was one of the priceless gifts she had received. Jon was the living embodiment of Ned Stark, his father no matter what anybody said, more than any of the children of his body and she was damn lucky to have him as her brother and her King.

 

The Kingsguard hauled the so-called Knight of the Vale to his feet and he groaned as Jon listened to Sansa’s story as well as Tyrion’s and Brienne’s.  Retrieving Sansa’s blade he returned it to her a smile quirking his lips. “Arya?” he said.

 

“Who else?  Although I made poor Pod practice with me after this one” indicating the increasingly awake Hardyng “tried this before a few moons ago when I was visiting the Vale.  I had him Jon, I did but he said” Sansa’s face fell as she thought of the horrific words he had said ( _ frigid bitch, broke you in rough) _ “cruel things to break my concentration.  I wasn’t prepared for that.” She said feeling ashamed for her moment of weakness.

 

“It’s a dirty tactic that most fighters learn to tune out with time.”  He pulled her in a hug. “You did well Sansa, very well and I’m proud of you.”  He handed her the knife. “Now what are you going to do with this man?” he asked.

 

“What am I going to do?” she queried. “You’re King not I.”

 

“Father always said the man, or in this case woman, who passes the sentence should swing the sword.  Well, here’s your sword” pointing at the gleaming blade “now what’s the sentence?” Jon asked with a firmness in his voice.

 

Sansa felt emboldened by the hard steel in her hand and walked purposely to Hardyng staring him straight in the eye.  She had been in this position twice before, first with Ramsey and then with Littlefinger. Both of whom had committed far worse sins against herself and her family and both of whom had underestimated her as Tyrion had once said.  Sansa felt pleasure at the memory of those words so full of respect and with a queer hint of pride in her former husband’s voice and wondered how that could be the same man that treated her like a child just last night. Dismissing the thought to focus on the task at hand and with Jon a step behind her bolstering her resolve, she addressed the pathetic excuse for a man in front of her who was suddenly wide awake as the Kingsguard gripped his golden locks and pulled his head up harshly to look at her.

 

“Ser Harrold” ( _ what fool had knighted this ass she thought _ ) “Twice you have tried to force yourself upon me, and twice you have failed although only narrowly.  You have not only disgraced yourself, but the Knights of the Vale and the Seven Kingdoms, and my cousin Lord Arryn as well being his heir.  I doubt with every fiber of my being that I am the only woman that you have tried to overpower but I am probably one of the few in a position to fight back.  So for the safety and security of all the women of Westeros, I am offering you a choice.” she paused before continuing, “castration” she flicked her wrist and her knife rested on his manhood as he winced “or banishment from the Seven Kingdoms here and now with naught but the clothes on your back. Please keep in mind that between my all- seeing-brother and Varys’s birds we will always know where you are and what you are up to in case you don’t seek to reform your ways.”

 

“You ignorant cock tease.  We could have ruled both the North and the Vale.” he spat in anger at her.

 

  
“Oh and how would that be my dear friend?” a young, angry, masculine voice answered and Sansa turned to see that they had garnered a larger audience, including her cousin Robin who had spoken, as well as her Aunt, Uncle, an angry looking Podrick, and a stone faced Reyna who gave Sansa a nod of encouragement. “It is a good thing my cousin is passing the sentence as I do believe threatening the life of your liege Lord is punishable by death.” Robin told Harrold.

 

“So which will it be?”  Sansa asked.  

 

“FUCKING CUNT!”  he yelled at her lunging against the Kingsguards holding him back.  He was promptly knocked unconscious again by a sharp uppercut from a furious Jon who had shouldered Sansa out of the way.  

 

“Take him to the deepest part of the black cells until he is aware enough of his predicament to make his decision.”  Jon said to his men shaking his hand in pain. He turned to Sansa “I am certain he will choose banishment and I will discuss with Varys and Davos where he could do the least harm and what ship will deliver him there.”

 

As Hardyng was dragged away, Jon slipped her arm through his and she sagged imperceptibly against his shorter but solid form.  Solid--yes, that was what Jon was above all else and she grasped onto it like an anchor.

 

Surprisingly of the crowd it was Podrick that stepped forward, his anger dissipating noting that she was unharmed.  “My Lady, Lord Tyrion told me what happened. Lady Arya would be proud of you.”

 

“I’m afraid I’ll never be a glimmer of my sister with a blade sadly.  If it wasn’t for Lord Tyrion distracting him, I’m not sure I would have been able to get my weapon out.”

 

“Thank you my Lord.” she dipped her head at Tyrion longing to but not wanting to meet his eyes as her emotions warred inside of her.  Half of her wanted to throw herself in his arms seeking comfort and half of her wanted to push him away to show that she wasn’t a weakling.  She then turned to Podrick, “And thank you for practicing some of the moves Arya taught with me. I just wish I knew more and had been prepared for different scenarios.”

 

Reyna spoke “You were better prepared than most Westerosi women I dare say.  I wish more of us were taught some basic self defense moves like yourself. Not all of us are your sister or my cousin.  Even a few basic moves can be enough to escape or call attention to an attack.” She looked at Brienne, “Perhaps this would be something the Westerosi Women’s Council could explore further with your help.”

 

“I doubt my style of fighting would be the best to teach other women as most have a much slighter build than I do, but I do have an idea.”  Brienne replied. She turned to her husband. “Do you think Ser Addam might be interested in expanding his lessons beyond his daughters and nieces?”

 

“Ser Addam Marbrand, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks?”  Jon asked.

 

“He’s a childhood friend of mine and when we visited him earlier this week he was working with his eldest daughter and her cousins demonstrating some basic defense moves.  He’s simply seen too much in his position and wants to assure their safety anyway he can. I can arrange a meeting if you like.” Jaime told Reyna. Her eyes lit up and she nodded her head in agreement.

 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea and I’m sure Danny will be thrilled about it but if you’ll excuse us, I think it would be best if Sansa and I retire.  It’s been a trying night and I’d like to fill my wife in on all the details before the servants do.” he smiled ruefully.

 

“Would you like us to escort you back to your room my Lady?” asked Brienne and Sansa was touched by the worry in her large blue eyes.

 

“Thank you for the kind offer, but please all of you enjoy the ball.  I’ll go with Jon to see Daenerys and he or his men can escort me back to the Tower.” she said.  She didn’t particularly want to see the Queen and relive what just happened but she wasn’t ready to be alone just yet.  It was only when they finally reached Jon’s solar, after finding Daenerys fast asleep for once, that she remembered Jon’s promise that they would be having a long overdue talk tonight about what’s been bothering her and she thoroughly regretted not taking Brienne up on her offer.

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

“Stop it.”  Jon said handing her a glass of the sweetened wine she enjoyed.

 

“Stop what?”  Sansa asked guardedly taking the glass and a sip of the wine hoping to soothe her frazzled nerves.

 

“Acting like your preparing for hostile diplomatic negotiations with the more difficult Lords and Ladies here at the Summit.  I’ve seen that look on your face on and off all week and I’d appreciate it if you’d drop it please. Can you do that for me Sansa?” Jon pleaded.

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”  Sansa lied in reply.

 

“I’m your brother and I’m just concerned about you.  This is not an interrogation.” he said and she could hear the tinge of exasperation in his voice.

 

“Are you sure about that?”  Sansa said defensively. The subtle movements of Jon’s face made her realize that she was unintentionally hurting him when he was trying to be helpful.  Letting her guard down, finally dropping her armor of courtesy, she sighed and gave him a lopsided smile of apology. “Sorry, you’re right. I know you’re just concerned about me but truly I’m fine Jon.”

 

“I know that’s not true.  I wish you would trust me Sansa.  I wish you would have told me about what happened at the Vale.  This whole scene could have been avoided.” Jon reproached her with a gentle tone.

 

Sansa sighed studying the fire before she admitted the truth “I was ashamed.  Ashamed yet another man had tried to victimize me. I’ve tried to become as cold, unforgiving, and imposing as the Wall itself so no man would dare use and abuse me as Joffrey, Ramsey, or even Littlefinger did.  And yet, there I was a helpless again. How can I be Wardeness of the North and protect our people when I need you, Arya, or even Tyrion to protect me?”

 

Jon narrowed his eyes.  “First of all, in the end it was you that saved everyone when we retook Winterfell from the Boltons.  I was the fool there for not listening to you and it’s a mistake I’ll never make again. Secondly, both you and Arya took down Littlefinger as a team but you were the one that finally realized the depth of his deception and manipulation.  She was just the one to wield the weapon. As for Tyrion, you were a child hostage caught in the middle of a war and he is too good of a man to sit by and watch that happen.”  

 

Sansa shifted uncomfortably in her chair as Jon talked about Tyrion, breaking eye contact with him as well.  Unfortunately, this didn’t go unnoticed and like Ghost tracking a scent he started to close in on what had been bothering her.  “I thought coming in here tonight, after the revelations on the balcony, I finally knew what was bothering you but this has little to do with Hardyng does it?”

 

Sansa didn’t answer, which was in itself all the conformation Jon needed.

 

“Is it my wife’s well meaning but foolish attempt to find Tyrion a bride?  I told her she should have never roped you into it. I know you two are friends and all, but isn’t it a bit odd to help find a former husband a new wife?”  Jon said with a lilt of humor in his voice, but then it turned serious. “Is that what the quarrel between you was about?’

 

“No.”  Sansa said  “But I did tell him that I was no longer going to help him find another wife.”  Dropping her voice, “I also told him I didn’t think we should be friends anymore.”

 

Confusion crossed Jon’s boyishly handsome features. “Why?  Because of a song? Why are you letting it bother you so much?  Gods have you heard some of the ones about me and Daenerys? Or the new Lannister version of the Bear and the Maiden Fair?”

 

“The one where Jaime’s the fair maiden?”  Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. “Brienne almost seems to enjoy that one.”

 

Turning serious once more she answered, “It’s not about the song, it’s about how he sees me.  I thought he saw me as an equal, someone who he could respect. Yet he hid this from me like I was still that girl that needed his protection.  It changed the way I see him, the way I see and feel about our relationship.”

 

“Sansa, I know he respects you and doesn’t think of you as a child no more than he thinks of me as the bastard boy he left at the Wall.  When I saw him for the first time in years, you were one of the first things he asked about. If you were alive and well, if you missed him terribly,”  Jon smiled and she could hear Tyrion’s self-deprecating voice “And then after assuring me that your marriage was a sham he informed me that you were much smarter than you let on.”

 

“He did?” Sansa couldn’t hide her surprise.  “And what was your response dear brother?”

 

“I said you were starting to let on.” he said wryly and Sansa remembered how at odds they could be in those days.

 

“So you think he respects me because he said I’m not as dumb as I acted?”  Sansa said.

 

“No.  Because his response to me saying you were starting to let on how smart you were was an emphatic ‘Good’ from him.  One of the things that man is good at seeing is potential, the potential of others. He saw it in me, Daenerys, Podrick, Bronn, and you.”

 

Sansa couldn’t help but agree with Jon.  He had even recommended Reyna for her new position and by all reports she was thriving and the Council was bound to be a success.  But there was something that still niggled at her. “But why would he shield me from something like that if he did respect me as he does others.  And don’t tell me it’s because I’m a woman because we both know he would have told Daenerys or his friend Lady Loreyna.” She hadn’t meant to say her name with any bitterness but a trace came out all the same and Sansa felt ashamed for it.  She had come to care for and respect Reyna but there was still an underlying level of jealousy that she hadn’t managed to eradicate yet. And damned if Jon didn’t pick up on it.

 

“Do you not like her?  Danny adores her and I’ve heard nothing but the good she’s doing.”

 

“She’s lovely.  I actually quite like her.” Sansa said avoiding Jon’s piercing eyes by staring at the fire.

 

“I sense a but.”

 

“No but.”  Jon was getting a little too close to the heart of the matter and Sansa tried to avoid the subject.  “She’ll make an excellent wife for Tyrion once she moves past her grief for her first husband.”

 

“That’s where you think their relationship is heading?”

 

“It’s only logical.  From what rumors I hear, Lord Selwyn will marry Lady Melessa Tarley within the year freeing up Loreyna to stay here in King’s Landing in her new position with the Council.”  She shot a surprised Jon a sharp look. “Don’t you dare tell Sam yet if he doesn’t know. Anyway, they would both be here at King’s Landing able to support each other in their career paths and understand the pressures they are under.  It just makes sense to marry a friend, especially when children are not a consideration.” Jon looked at her suspiciously and in a panic trying and failing not to sound shrill she added. “That was a thought that crossed my mind before Theon died.  He was a friend that understood me in ways others didn’t and we could have supported each other and then perhaps I wouldn’t have had to deal with the likes of men like Hardyng if I was married, no matter what the circumstances of my marriage was.”

 

Jon leaned back in his chair in disbelief,  “You would have married Theon.” He said flatly.  

 

“Why not?”

 

“He was like a brother to you.   He was like a brother to all of us.  And no matter what he did in the end, how we forgave him, he still betrayed Robb and the North and none of your bannerman would have accepted him as the Lord of Winterfell.” Jon said gently.  “He also could have never given you children.” he said his eyes full of sorrow.

 

Sansa was quiet for a minute regretting the ill thought words.  She had never thought of how the rest of the North saw Theon. She had only remembered how he had come to Winterfell for her, for the North.  She wondered for a flicker if he had felt more for her than sisterly affection. She had loved him in a brotherly way but mostly thought of the safety she would find with him, a man that she cared for and trusted, but not with her heart.  A man that could offer the security of marriage, but who could not, would not, make demands of her in the marriage bed. Her heart stumbled a beat as she realized what it would have been, yet another sham marriage. Is that truly what she really wanted?  Maybe at one time, maybe before the spark she felt for Tyrion had started to turn into a flame.

 

As if picking up on her thoughts he said “If you wanted a sham marriage to ward off suitors you might as well have just stayed married to Tyrion.”  He said it jokingly, but recognized by her crumbling face that he had finally nailed the crux of the matter.

 

“Is that why you’re so upset?  Because you want Tyrion to stop looking at other women so he’ll marry you to keep you safe?”  He grabbed her hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ll send a whole army of my most trusted men to Winterfell.  Daenerys and I promised you that you would never have to marry again and I meant it. Marriage isn’t something you need to do.”

 

“Oh Jon.”  she sighed as the tears started to fall.  “That isn’t why I don’t want him to marry.”  She raised her head and finally admitted the truth of the matter in the face of her brothers concerned gaze.  “I don’t want him to marry another woman because I’m in love with him!”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos? Yes, please.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope to get out another chapter this month but also have a one off modern Sanrion AU floating about my head for the New Year. Guess we'll see what happens!


	17. Like ripples in a pond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, it's been a hot minute since I updated. Sorry :) My muse told me to spend my bit of free time before the holidays writing my Tyrion/Sansa modern AU "New Year, New Beginning" instead. Check it out!

Tyrion lay in the bath watching as his exhaled bubbles flew up to burst at the water’s surface.  One of the advantages of his size was being able to fully immerse himself in a tub and pretend he was back in the warm summer waters of the Sunset sea.  There was a shallow private cove at Casterly Rock that Tyrion often would play in with his siblings, mostly Jaimie of course, when they could escape Tywin’s scrutiny.  Tyrion excelled as a swimmer despite his shortened arms and legs, and while he would never be able to outswim his elder brother, sometimes he could best his sister in the water, and sometimes she would forget she hated him if only for a moment as they all played and splashed in the ocean. 

 

His mind and heart twisted as he thought of Cersei.  There was a small part of her that would always love her, love who she should have been to him, but it was overshadowed by a lifetime of abuse and hatred on her part and eventually his.  As the years passed, his heart let go of more of the anger and moved toward forgiveness more for his own peace of mind than anything else. It was more than he could say for his father, a man for whom he now felt nothing at all.  Truly the opposite of love is not hatred, as it still implies an emotional connection of some sort, but apathy instead. How Jaime dealt with it all was still a mystery to him and he assumed Brienne was his emotional support in that regard.  Fortune favors that man wherever he goes, he thought enviously, wishing he had someone like that in his life too. As much as he loved his brother, there were certain dark parts of their past that simply could not be visited together without damaging their own bond.  Tyrion would never fully understand what would drive Jaime to his sick, twisted relationship with his twin, and Jaime would never completely comprehend what finally drove Tyrion to murder their father.

 

Tyrion emerged from his bath, and regarded himself once again in the looking glass.  He rubbed his hand over his week old stubble, having not shaved since he quarreled with Sansa.  Not entirely sure why, habit maybe? After all he had grown the beard after Sansa had extricated herself from his life the first time, might as well make it a tradition he thought bitterly. Otherwise he didn’t look quite as terrible as he had the day the Queen called him out on his downward spiral, but he did look exhausted.  Which he was of course. It had been almost a full week since the ball, and he had run himself ragged from dawn to the wee hours of the morning everyday. Sure, there were things he could have, should have delegated but he needed to keep busy so his thoughts didn’t linger on Sansa, but of course they always returned to her. The woman he loved, the woman that occupied his heart, his mind, and hell his chambers.  The woman who could not forgive him for damaging their friendship beyond repair. He had barely seen her since the Hardyng incident (Hardyng was currently in shackles on a ship destined for Mereen where the Queen had asked Daario Naharis to use him as he sees fit.) He had hoped that he had reached past her anger at him when he was able to calm her after the attack, but that appeared not to be the case. In fact, after the first few days, he realized she was avoiding him at all costs and they were only in the same room at crowded public meetings and she spent any free time cloistered with her brother or the Queen and Lady Jenna (who were bonding tremendously in their confinement) only dining with his family on the nights he was oh-so-coincidentally elsewhere.

 

After dressing, he walked to his desk and stared contemplatively at the two pouches delivered by the jeweler’s boy earlier that day.  Tyrion had almost completely forgotten about the necklace and the bracelet buried in his work and his misery. He checked the clasp on the necklace and satisfied at the repair, tucked it back in it’s pouch and placed it in his inside breast pocket by his damned foolish heart hoping that in the near future she would be willing to speak with him again and he could return it to her. 

 

His heart aching with memories of Sansa wearing the dragonfly necklace in the garden, he turned to open the second pouch.  Examining the contents, his stomach dropped at the pure beauty that lay before him. The bracelet was a deeply personal work of art with each charm representing a member of the Stark family.  The Stark direwolf for her father, a trout of red and blue for her Lady Mother, and a crowned direwolf for her elder brother, Robb. Jon’s was two sided, an albino wolf head on one side and an emerald dragon head on the other, representing cleverly his duality.   Bran was of course a three-eyed raven, while Arya could only ever be truly be portrayed by her Needle. The youngest Stark, Rickon, was represented by a frolicing wolf-cub. The largest charm was also the most beautiful, a small scale Winterfell, her home that she had fought and suffered for.  

 

His eyes admired every exquisite detail, but he knew that he could never give this to her.  This was an intimate present from a family member, a lover or spouse, not an ex-husband and now former friend.  Her nameday was not far off, perhaps he could pass it off as a gift from Jon and Daeneys. He knew he could easily convince them that it was there own idea with a few thoughts planted here or there.  He placed it in his desk drawer, slamming and locking it shut, wishing he could do the same with his feelings.

 

In dire need for solitude, he canceled his dinner plans claiming fatigue.  In his desperation for diversion, he had accepted invitations to a multitude of dinner parties that week unwittingly setting himself up as the main course for the single women attending.  He had welcomed the attention briefly, convincing himself he needed to move on from Sansa Stark, but nothing stopped his thoughts and dreams from returning to her. Sighing deeply he resignedly accepted that he was in love, and he didn’t know if he’d ever get over her.  Nor did he really want to try.

 

Tyrion tried to slip out of the Tower sight unseen.  He knew Sansa would magically be there that night, expecting him to be elsewhere.  While he desperately wanted to see her, the last thing he ever wanted to do was make her uncomfortable and clearly she didn’t want to speak with him.

 

Steps from freedom, Tyrion heard a voice call after him.  “Avoiding her isn’t going to repair what’s been broken.”

 

Closing his eyes in annoyance at his brother’s voice he replied, “She’s clearly not interested in trying to mend things or my friendship anymore.  I’m saving us both the trouble. And if you haven’t noticed, she’s been avoiding ME all week like I have Greyscale!”

 

“I noticed.”  Jaime said and Tyrion could hear the disapproval in his voice that for once was not aimed at him.  “Where are you going?”

 

“To look at the sea, to think. Alone.”  _To try to figure out how to move on._ Tyrion thought.

 

“I’d say you think enough, but I have something for you to consider.”  Jaime said seriously.

 

“What would that be?” Tyrion asked.

 

“Come home.”  Jaime said in an almost pleading voice.  “For a few months, a year, for life, whatever you choose.  This place, this job, it’s killing you slowly. You don’t need to marry to find a home and have a family.  You DO have a family, a home, at Casterly Rock that loves you. Come home Tyrion.”

 

Tyrion stopped, looking Jaimie in the eye and he could see the genuine worry there.  He sighed with a sad smile, “I love you Jaime and your wife and children but Casterly Rock has never felt like home to me, not really. But I will think about coming to the Rock for a visit.  It would be nice to get away for a time.” He turned to walk away.

 

“Tyrion”  Jaime called  “No place will feel like home as long as your heart is elsewhere.”

 

Tyrion just gave him a sad smile, before pulling up his hood and heading into the night.

  
  
  
  


Reyna had also had a long, busy, and tiring week culminating in the events of this past afternoon.  An innocuous event to anybody but herself, but she had felt as acutely as the water of a still pond rippled at the tiniest stone breaking it’s surface.  As she took the seat next to Sansa, that night for dinner with the Lannisters she still feel disquited but she couldn’t exactly name why. But that was a lie.  She could name exactly why or should she say _who_ had unsettled her perfectly ordered little world.  

 

 Earlier that week she had spent hours cultivating many successful  relationships with the Ladies of various houses, being young enough to appeal to the younger generation but as a widow she could appeal to the matriarchs as well.  The next step for the council was to reach out to women of the common folk and she had some meetings set up next week with some women either Varys or Lady Jenna thought could be of benefit.

 

Today she had finally been able to escape both council and summitt business with her cousin and Ser Jaime to meet with his childhood friend Ser Addam Marbrand.  Ser Addam of course was equally busy running the Gold Cloaks what with the city being filled with visitors for the Summitt. As she waited patiently for dinner to start (Noting that both Tyrion and Sansa somehow managed to miss each other yet again.  She hoped this rift between them would mend soon, but sensed it was only growing wider. Fools, she thought. It was becoming increasingly clear by their strange behavior that there was something deeper than friendship between the two.), she pondered the events of the afternoon.

 

_Jaime and Brienne had escorted her to a large home in one of the more affluent neighborhoods of Kings Landing.  A maid had answered the door, escorting them to the courtyard where the sounds of sparring greeted their ears. A loan adult male in full armour stood in the middle of the yard surrounded by three girls ranging in size and age from she guessed nine or ten to  early teens. The oldest a tall willowy girl with raven hair, stood in a fighters stance with a small knife in her hand while her other was held out indicating for the man to stop. “NO!” she yelled loudly, defiantly as the man approached her._

 

_“Good girl Darla.” said a rich strong voice from under the full helm.  “Your voice is a weapon too. Don’t be afraid to use it to attract attention or let your attacker know you are serious.  Some ignorant men take politeness or demureness for acquiescence. Let them know this is not the case with a strong command.”_

 

_He suddenly lunged for her, and quick as a whip she slipped from his grasp with a quick stomp to his insole with the heel of her boot and she dashed across the yard in an instant pulling up at the last second before she collided headlong with Brienne and Jaime who were a step ahead of Reyna.  The girls eyes bugged out wildly and remembering her manners she curtsied deeply while mumbling an apology._

 

_“No need to apologize Lady Darla.  Your moves were flawless with a perfect ending if you come seeking the aid of the bravest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Brienne Lannister.” said Jaime with a charming smile for the girl and an adoring look at his wife.  Reyna couldn’t help but roll her eyes._

 

_“Jaime!”  came the booming excited voice from under the helm as the tall, broad shouldered man approached the party.  He greeted Jaime enthusiastically with one of those manly back slapping hugs. He bowed for Lady Brienne, but before Reyna could step forward an exasperated woman’s voice called “Addam, your helm’s still on you great oaf.  Take it off for our company.”_

 

_The source of the voice was a tall stunning blonde woman, carrying a red haired toddler while an older female child trailed behind, a sister to Lady Darla if coloring was any indication.  The toddler was placed on the ground running to join the two older blonde girls that were putting away the sparring gear in the courtyard. The young dark haired girl wrapped her arms around Ser Addam’s muscular, tree trunk like leg, staring at the guests with huge hazel eyes._

 

_“Celia!”  Jaimie greeted enthusiastically with a kiss on the cheek to the leggy blonde that Reyna guessed was Ser Marbrand’s wife.  “Beautiful and feisty as you were as a girl.”_

 

_“Somebody’s got to keep him in line.” she muttered quietly, sharing a sad look of understanding with Jaime that Reyna caught but didn’t understand._

 

_“Lady Celia, may I present my wife, Lady Brienne, and her cousin, Lady Loreyna.” Jaime said gallantly before turning to Ser Addam who had been removing his healm during Celia’s and Jaimie’s greeting._

 

_Reyna’s eyes widened as she turned to Ser Addam.  Before her stood one of the most attractive men she had ever laid eyes on.  He had flaming red hair, much like her girlhood crush Ser Russell, with a closely cropped beard that barely concealed his dimples.  Smiling broadly at Celia, and from the lines that accompanied it on his face Reyna could tell he smiled often, he barked in laughter “Forgive me sister, I am too often in the company of men these days that I forget my manners.”  Reyna found herself smiling a little too brightly upon learning that Celia was the handsome knight’s sister._

 

_Hazel eyes matching the child at his feet, turned to meet Reyna’s and when their eyes locked she felt her heart beat loudly, shocking her to her core.  His eyes widened in delight as he took a step toward her, almost stumbling after apparently not remembering the child attached to his leg, before taking her hand in his and kissing it causing the sensation of wildfire to spread up her arm and over her entire body. She found herself blushing like a foolish young maid as a flush overtook her body and she thanked the Gods for her darker Dornish coloring.  “Lady Loreyna it is a pleasure to meet you, I have heard much of your work from Jaime and look forward to helping as I can. I also ask your forgiveness for my manners. I am but a poor widower and often don’t have the occasion to have such lovely company as guests.” he said with a smile that she was sure charmed every woman he talked to._

 

_“Only because you don’t want to,” said Celia with a sigh and Reyna sensed an old argument between the siblings.  “It really is high time you remarried, it’s been five years since the fever took Clara, the Mother bless her soul.  Poor Darla is doing the best she can to run the house, but they need a mother not just an Aunt that visits sporadically when their Uncle’s business brings her to town.  There are all these lovely women in town for the Summitt, looking for husbands, and I think you are just as much of a catch as any of those so-called Most Eligible Bachelors all the women are talking about.”_

 

_Reyna could see a flicker of pain cross Ser Addam’s eyes and understanding it completely, she squeezed this man’s hand that was somehow still in her grasp.  Although he was a stranger, she knew exactly how he felt. “I too lost my husband and know that it feels impossible to replace a love that great.”_

 

_He stared at her and she felt a connection with him, that she had never felt this instantly with anyone.  “Perhaps” he said “that is because we need to change our thinking. We need not replace the love we had, but find a new one that leaves room for loved ones that are no longer with us.”_

 

_And much, much, much to her surprise Reyna found herself replying  “Maybe you’re right Ser Addam. Love is not finite, but instead it grows and expands infinitely.  However, I have also learned that love will find you when your’re least expecting it, not when you’re looking for it.”  she said addressing Celia. Gesturing at the lovesick Lannisters, “Take these two for example who found love on opposing sides in the middle of a war.”_

 

_Reyna turned to her cousin and her husband and caught them smiling sweetly at each other.  Their love was so strong and anyone around them could feel it and for the first time since Michael's death she desperately wanted to feel that way again.  To be treasured, loved, safe, in the arms of the man she loved. Ser Addam’s words gave her hope. Just because she wanted to fall in love again, did not make what her and Michael shared any less strong, nor was it betraying his memory.  He would want her to be happy._

  
  


Hours later, the words still reverberated in her mind and she found her thoughts turning towards the handsome man with his dimples, flaming hair, and two lovely raven haired daughters.  Lady Celia was right, in a way. The two young girls were starving for adult female attention and Reyna had found herself chatting more with Darla, who talked of her father’s self defense training and trying to run her father’s household at the ripe old age of thirteen, than with the adults.  The six year old, Diana, had been shy at first, hanging on her father’s leg. However, by the end of the afternoon, she had practically crawled in Reyna’s lap showing her some of her drawings and making her promise to come back for a puppet show she was working on in the next few days.

 

And the whole time, her eyes were constantly being drawn to the hazel eyes of their father who gave her soft smiles, while he shared his training techniques with Brienne and Jaime who had suddenly decided to spearhead this project.  She shivered a little at the thought of the intensity of his gaze when they parted that afternoon but hoped that she would see him again when she visited his daughters and sister for tea in a few days time but found it unlikely given how time consuming his job was.  The thought of not seeing him again was more dismaying then she was ready to admit.

 

Dinner was pleasant as always, with Podrick and Sansa organically becoming members of the extended Lannister family.  Although Reyna noticed that Jaime, while not being overt, was not his warm and jovial self with Sansa, often saying loudly and somewhat pointedly what a shame it was that Tyrion was not there to join them. They shared the story of their visit with Ser Addam’s family and Reyna found herself blushing mightily when Joy asked her to describe the knight, frustrated by Brienne’s description “Looks like he could hold his own in a fight.”  When Reyna mentioned his red hair, she couldn’t help but get a private smirk from Sansa who clearly hadn’t been drunk enough to forget the details of Reyna’s former crush.

 

After dinner, Sansa and Reyna were about to accompany (more like chaperone) Joy and Podrick on an evening stroll while Jaime and Brienne went upstairs to check on their children.  They were just about to head out the door when they heard footfalls coming rapidly down the tower stairs. Jaime, his eyes wide and slightly winded came rushing towards them and the group became alarmed.

 

“Is everything alright cousin? Is something the matter with the children?”  Joy asked in alarm.

 

“They are well.  It’s just..” Jaime raked his hand through his hair looking stressed before turning to Sansa.  “Could you please accompany me to the nursery Lady Sansa? I think there has been a misunderstanding and my darling daughter has mistakenly absconded with something that belongs to you and is quite upset about it.” 

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”  Sansa said perplexed but the look on Jaime’s face clearly indicated that it was in fact _something._

Jaime escorted Sansa up the stairs, while Reyna wondered what could have possibly gotten the mostly unflappable man all worked up.  Joy and Podrick looked at her expectedly still wanting to head out on their stroll and she motioned for them to go ahead while she went to grab her cloak.  She sighed as she fashioned the clasp not looking forward to being the third wheel to the young lovers. She had been looking forward to Sansa’s company, thinking they could hang back a good twenty yards and chat.  Maybe she could have got Sansa to open up about whatever estrangement was going on between her and Tyrion. Or maybe Sansa could have helped her make sense of the effect a handsome stranger ( _but he didn’t feel like a stranger at all which was the oddest thing_ ) on her. Occupied by her thoughts, she wasn’t paying attention at all when she opened the tower door and collided headlong into a solid wall of armoured muscle.  Two strong hands gripped her arms and she tilted her head back to find those hazel eyes that had already become familiar twinkling at her with unabashed pleasure.

 

“Ser Addam!”  she squeaked in surprise as she took a step back and his arms dropped from her arms.  Ser Addam was dressed in his full Gold Cloak regalia and looked as fine a specimen of man as she had ever seen.

 

“Lady Loreyna am I catching you on your way out?”  Ser Addam said and she couldn’t help the pleasure she felt when she could hear the disappointment in his question.

 

“Yes, I am to play chaperone for those two lovebirds over by the garden entrance and sadly for me the fourth member of our party has become occupied by an urgent matter with the Lord and Lady of the Rock.”

 

“Lord Tyrion?”  Ser Addam asked, his voice still pleasant but slightly flatter in tone.  She raised an eyebrow in response. If he was nonchalauntly asking about her relationship with Tyrion, it  looks like he had spent some time checking up on her this afternoon and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.  Annoyed? Flattered? Both?

 

“No,  the Lady Sansa is staying at the tower and she was to join me.  Truthfully, the family hasn’t seen much of our host, busy as he is with the Summitt and all the matchmaking.” she said with a teasing half smile.

 

A broad smile at her words caused those dimples she admired to appear and she felt a flutter in her tummy, and chastised herself momentarily for reacting like a silly maiden to a handsome man.  “Celia told me that he’s quite the hot topic among the ladies. But more because he hasn’t shown a passing interest in any of them. Quite a change from the skirt chasing Tyrion I remember.” he said chuckling.

 

She just smiled in reply before saying   “If you came here to see Jaime, I’m afraid he’s a bit busy at the moment.”

 

“I actually came here asking if you could change your tea plans with my girls to dinner in two days time so I could join you as well.” he said hopefully.

 

“I think I could arrange that.” she said not being able to contain her grin.

 

He reached out taking her hand and tucking it in the bend of his muscular arm, before saying flirtatiously “Lady Loreyna,  I would be honored if you’d let me be a poor substitute for Lady Sansa on your stroll this evening.”

 

“I would be delighted Ser Addam.”  Reyna said feeling younger and lighter than she had in more years than she could remember.

  
  
  
  


 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what has Sansa been up to other than avoiding the man she loves? And what could it possibly be that Jaime found? ;)
> 
> I know there was a lot of my OC in that chapter, but dang I needed to do something for the poor girl. I kinda love her lol.  
> 


	18. The purloined letter

Jaime stood at the foot of his daughter’s bed while his wife sat gingerly on the edge, straightening the covers and smoothing the hair on her forehead.  Jaime smiled at the two girls that owned his heart and wondered again how he had managed to be so lucky. Although often he would remember another girl that looked much like her sister, only with green eyes rather than the deep blue of her mother and he would find himself overwhelmed with grief for the children he lost.  It had been difficult for him after Joanna’s birth to come to terms with being a father again, but this time with a child he could claim as his own. Luckily, he had the most understanding wife in the world and rather then wanting no mention of Myrcella or Tommen (Joffrey was a different story), she made sure that he could love and grieve them properly.  Their names would be known to their half-siblings (only as cousins for now) and their memories and lives celebrated.  

 

Brienne moved across the nursery to nurse Selwyn, so Jaime took her spot on Joanna’s bed.  Apparently lacking Brienne’s delicate touch he must have shifted the bed causing his daughter to stir.  She opened one of her bright blue eyes “Papa?” she said sleepily and turned over revealing a doll that Jaime had never seen before.  There was something familiar about it, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

 

“Yes my sweet girl. Who’s your new friend?”  Jaime whispered, kissing her on her head. “Poor Cassidy is going to be jealous”  he winked.

 

Joanna hugged the doll to her chest  “Her name is Sally, please don’t tell Mama.  I don’t want her to be upset with me.”

 

“Why would she ever be upset with you for playing with your dolls?”  Jaime said as he gently pulled the doll from her grasp, because there was just _something_ about it.

 

“Mama didn’t play with dolls.  She played with swords.”

 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t play with both.  Look at your Mama now.” Jaime turned her head towards Brienne.  Her shirt was unbuttoned, revealing her breast that their son was now suckling at.  She was breathtaking and blissful, her eyes closed, as she cradled him in her strong, muscular arms.  At her side, as always, was Oathkeeper. A sword that had become a symbol of his love and devotion to her, and it meant far more to see her with it than the ring on her finger.  “She has both a babe and a sword.” Joanna watched her mother and brother for a bit, and relaxed in her father’s embrace as she took his words to heart

 

Opening her eyes Brienne said “And if you are as lucky as your mother, you will find the man of your dreams who will know that you want both.  Although it wasn’t until I married your father that I knew how much I wanted babies as well as my sword. You’ve just figured it out a lot sooner than I have my darling daughter.”  Brienne gently placed Selwyn on her shoulder and rubbed his back to burp him before placing him back in his crib, already half asleep.

 

She came back over to sit on the bed with Jaime, “Now where did this Lady Sally come from?” Brienne asked Joanna.

 

_Yes Jaime thought.  Where did this doll come from and what is it that I can’t remember._

 

“Uncle Tyri left her on his bed for me.”  Brienne and Jaime shared a look of disbelief.  Tyrion hadn’t been in his room for a week now and why on earth would he leave a doll for Joanna there.  Jaime was staring at the doll when suddenly the pieces clicked into place for Jaime along with memories so sweet and painful of the daughter he lost that he felt them physically. The reason the doll looked so damn familiar is he had seen it before or one like it.  He flipped it over and saw the toymaker’s mark sewn in the doll’s back. The man had one foot in the grave when he had gone to the shop to purchase them for Myrcella, there was no way he could possibly still be alive. That meant this was an old doll, a very old doll indeed.

 

“When did you get this doll?”  Jaime asked his daughter.

 

“The day that everybody got to go to the fancy ball.”  Joanna pouted. She had desperately wanted to go see all the ladies in their beautiful dresses and wear a new one of her own.  She was much more of a peacock like her father when it came to dressing up.

 

 “You mean the day Lady Sansa moved into Uncle Tyrion’s room.” Jaime said gently.  “I think this doll might actually be hers. I bought similar dolls for your cousin Myrcella” he said his voice thick with emotion “and Lady Sansa was close to her age.”

 

Joanna’s eyes filled with tears,  “I didn’t know Lady Sansa was moving into Uncle Tyri’s room.  I thought the doll was mine, and she had a note on her that said Sally and I DIDN”T KNOW.”  she started sobbing uncontrollably.

 

While Brienne cradled their daughter, who hugged her purloined toy to her chest tightly, Jaime was aware of the sudden prickle up his spine.  Did Joanna just say something about a note?

 

Doing his best to disguise the utter panic in his voice, but not fooling his wife in the slightest who was staring at him with wide questioning eyes, Jaime asked.  “May I see the note Joanna?”

 

Joanna pointed to a toy chest while sobbing pitifully into her mother’s arms.  “I’m sorry.” she whimpered over and over again and the sound broke her father’s heart.  But he let Brienne console her as he now had to deal with the unforeseen consequences of her innocent actions. Plucking the letter that said “Sansa” in his brother’s flowing hand from a strap inside the lid, his heart broke again but for his brother this time.  _Oh Joanna, what have you done?_

 

* * *

  
  


Sansa had, of course, sworn her brother to secrecy after the revelation of her feelings for Tyrion.  He didn’t understand, _at all,_ why she couldn’t, wouldn’t act on them.  Gods, what world was this where Jon was the romantic and she the pragmatist.   She loved him but he was so naive sometimes. When she told him why even if Tyrion returned her affections, which he didn’t, why it would never work between them, her words had fallen on deaf ears.  He had told her that “Love was the death of duty.” She was Lady Stark, Wardeness of the North, and it was both her duty and her privilege to serve her home and her ancestors. A duty and service bound in love for her people and the North with the blood of all the Starks coursing through her veins.  Winterfell was her home and much like her Aunt Rosalyn, she couldn’t wait to escape this place. So she flipped the words on Jon telling him that “Duty was the death of love.” and asked him to never speak of it again, saying she was emotionally overwrought from the encounter with Harold Hardyng. Jon had agreed, but only after telling her she was making the biggest mistake of her life by burying her feelings.

 

There was of course far more to the obstacles between them than her duties to the North even if that was the excuse she told Jon.  Tyrion was just too important to the Crown and just so damn good at his position that she would never ask him to come North for her.  Not that he would. She had borne witness to his first stint as Hand under Joffrey and he was brilliant at it. The past few weeks had just reiterated that fact to her.  He was born to politics as his brother had been born to wield a sword. Watching him this past week, had been almost unbearable. The sharp bite of his words, the deft manipulations of the other players had left her in awe.  If the Summit

was a tourney, he would have won single handedly with Daenerys being the Queen of Love and Beauty as well as the Seven Kingdoms.  She couldn’t help her jealousy at that fact. His Queen would always come first. Daenerys had seen the potential in him, his singular sharp mind and good heart under the impish snark.  Meanwhile she had snubbed his kindness and did not appreciate his good qualities so she could hardly blame him that his loyalties would always be first to his Queen, not to the wife that had abandoned him and married another.  Not for the first time, she wondered if he was half in love with the fiery Dragon Queen who was all she was not. Fire, fury, and passion while she was cold, calculated, and reserved.

 

She toyed with her food at dinner, while the extended Lannister family spoke animatedly about their visit with Ser Addam.  Sansa couldn’t help but notice that Reyna was slightly flustered, and couldn’t help smirking at her when she described the red haired knight.  She was delighted for her new friend but poor Tyrion would be looking elsewhere for a wife after all. Which is precisely what he was doing, being wined and dined almost all week by the families of potential brides, proving he didn’t need her at all to be a matchmaker.  It didn’t help one bit that his brother made pointed remarks about his absence with each one being a dagger in the heart as she thought about him being fawned upon by all the beautiful women she had seen in town. All it would take was for one to spark his interest, and they would fall for his charm in no time she was sure.  The Queen’s idea had been a good one and was sure to generate many wedding invitations in the months to come. She would just be sure to not attend one in particular, as her heart would be broken enough from afar. Plus she didn’t need Jon to be looking at her the whole ceremony with that expression so like father’s when he was disappointed in her when she was already ashamed of her own cowardice.  

 

Although, she doubted very much that would be a problem considering they weren’t exactly speaking right now despite how he had cared for her after Hardyng’s assault.   Sansa knew that was her fault as she had told him she didn’t want to be friends anymore and he had taken it to heart. She didn’t know what she had expected. Perhaps for him to have tried harder to fight for whatever it was between them?  She had just been so hurt by the way he treated her and he didn’t seem to understand why. And she wasn’t sure if he even cared enough to fix things. Not for the first time, she wondered if avoiding Tyrion for the past week had been a mistake.  It was childish she knew, but since he treated her like a child anyway, she may as well prove him right. It was painful enough to see him in his element as Hand, but to see him outside of large meetings very well may have killed her, aware fully now of her feelings for him. 

 

The nights were the worst as she could smell him, almost feel his presence in his room surrounded by his things, even if he slept across the hall.  His giant, comfortable bed had become a source of constant torment as her dreams of Tyrion had become far less innocent in nature of late sparking both fear and desire in her soul.  More than once she had found herself trembling in her nightclothes hand on the doorknob ready to burst across the hall confronting him with the full force of her feelings and wants. But fear of his rejection accompanied by the cruel whispers of the monster she had slain (and damn him for being right about being a part of her now) that voiced all her own insecurities about being intimate with a man.  That she was scarred, soiled, frigid, a ruined woman. She would combat the voice with the words of the whore who wore her scars proudly or Reyna who had found joy in her wedding bed. Exhausted by her internal battle, she would return to Tyrion’s bed breathing in his scent wishing she wasn’t such a coward before crying herself silently to sleep.

 

Preparing for her walk that night with Reyna and the happy young couple,  Sansa wondered if she could confide in Reyna now that she was starting to be convinced that her and Tyrion would never be more than friends.  Her heart lightened at the thought of unburdening herself to another woman, one who might understand and offer insight. However, her plans were interrupted by Ser Jaime’s odd and somewhat desperate plea that she come to the nursery.  Despite his prickly demeanor to her of late, she immediately followed him and he rushed her up the stairs holding firmly on to her elbow with his good hand. Several times he looked as if he wanted to say something to her, but his jaw just clenched shut causing alarm bells to go off in her head.

 

Outside of the room he stopped and Sansa could hear muffled girlish sobs from inside.  Her soft heart propelled her towards the door, all her instincts telling her to do whatever she could to ease the hurt but Jaime’s stopped her by quietly saying “Sansa.”

 

She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the softness in his voice or the familiarity of his address.  They had never exactly been friends, but she was aware more than ever that they both loved the same people dearly as she stared up into his green, green eyes that were so like the ones that usually pierced her from a much different angle.  He raked his hands across his face before muttering “Where to begin” and Sansa started as he sounded so much like Tyrion’s echo from long ago when he broke the news of their betrothal to her.

 

Sansa blurted out “Joanna, please start there.  I can’t bear to hear her cry.”

 

“Yes of course.  Just know there is much more to the story but let’s get her settled first.  Joanna found a doll on Tyr.. I mean your bed the day you moved into the tower.  She thought Tyrion had left it for her, not knowing the maids had switched it over for you.  Are you missing a doll?”

 

“A doll?  I haven’t had a doll since…”  her memories flashed of her father giving her a beautiful doll even if she was far too old for one.  She had still been angry with him and Arya, grieving Lady, and had treated his gift with disdain. Shame flooded her body.

 

She shook her head as Jaime gave her a quizzical look.  “No, the doll wasn’t mine. It may be that Tyrion did leave it for her.”

 

“Are you sure?  I happen to know the doll was made by the same elderly toymaker that I use to get Myrcella’s from.” If Sansa had any lingering doubts about Jaime’s character, they evaporated as his voice caught with grief at his daughter’s name.  “I just don’t know where he would get an old doll like that for Joanna.”

 

A sinking feeling hit Sansa, “I might know.  But I’d need to see it. I promise I won’t upset her.”

 

“As I said, there’s more but I will tell you in private momentarily.” he said opening the door.

 

Poor little Joanna Lannister sobbed quietly against her mother, but her swollen eyes became even more wet and upset as she spotted Sansa.  Looking at her parents for support, she thrust a doll out towards her before uttering a tearful “I’m sorry I took your doll Lady Sansa.” It was too much for Sansa’s heart and she rushed forward to gather the child in her own arms and shush her apologies and tears.  

 

It was only after she and Brienne finally quieted her that she finally looked at the doll.  Tears threatened to prick her eyes as she held the last present her father ever gave her. Thinking not of herself, but the young child beside her she schooled her face into a pleasant expression to hide her grief.  “I think this was my doll a long time ago when I lived in King’s Landing. Someone must have found an old trunk of my things I left behind and wanted to surprise me.” Sansa suspected she knew who that was and that caused the grief in her heart to lift slightly.  “But you know I was too old for dolls when my father gave her to me. I never played with her or gave her a name which just doesn’t feel right does it?” she asked Joanna. She smiled at her sweetly “But I bet you’ve named her and have taken good care of her.”

 

 Joanna nodded her head enthusiastically.  “Her name is Sally and I’ve been very careful with her and I brush her hair and give her lots of love.”

 

“Well then, I think she’s found where she belongs.  If you promise to take good care of her and invite me to the next tea party, she’s yours to keep.”  Sansa said handing the doll back to her.  

 

Joanna wrapped her arms around her hugging her tight her tears finally drying.  “Even if you aren’t married to Uncle Tyri anymore could you still be my Aunt Sansa?”

 

“That would make me very happy.”  Sansa said sincerely.

 

* * *

 

The usually verbose Jaime had remained silent during the exchange about the doll, but was quick to kiss his daughter goodnight and escort Sansa from the room while his wife settled Joanna back to sleep.  In foreboding silence he escorted her to his brother’s chambers where he deposited her in a chair by the fire before bringing them both a glass of wine.

 

Fortifying herself with a long drink of the wine, she turned to Jaime arching an eyebrow as he downed his entire glass in one gulp.  He took a deep breath, steepling his hands before him and sighing. Sansa studied his profile and she could see the tension in his shoulders and the worry creasing his face.  Quietly he began to speak without looking at her, “A little over a week ago, I waited in this chamber for my brother after he ran down to Flea Bottom to discreetly fetch Bronn and bring him to his ailing wife.  When I awoke, my brother had returned looking more despondent than I’d seen him since that whore bore false witness against him at the trial.” Icy cold guilt spread through Sansa’s body when she thought of how she abandoned him that day although even in hindsight she didn’t know if she would have changed things.  If she had stayed she would have stood trial too. Would they have both been executed or fled to Essos together? Too many ‘what ifs’ swirled through her brain. Jaime’s voice brought her back to the present. “I thought that Lady Jenna or the child had been lost but instead found that the reason for his misery was the falling out you two had.  I would tell you it’s foolish to spoil a friendship over such things as a bawdy song but I suspect that the reasoning for your anger had much deeper roots.”

 

“You’d be correct.”  Sansa stammered as her heart hammered against her ribs as she waited for whatever axe was going to fall.

 

“I won’t discuss all that we spoke of but just know he was deeply upset and hurt that he had lost your trust and friendship. He wanted to apologize to you but was at a loss for words, his thoughts scattered in the face of your anger with him.”  He turned to Sansa with a pointed look. “That man has talked himself out of certain death on multiple occasions, but he couldn’t find the words to tell you how sorry he was? Let that sink in for a moment Lady Sansa so you know how much you truly mean to my brother.”

 

Sansa took another sip of her wine, her hands trembling against the wine glass.  But she said nothing as she avoided his eyes that were far too much like Tyrion’s at the moment.

 

“So I advised him to take his time and write you a heartfelt letter of apology.  Which he did” Sansa’s head snapped up at that “but I know now that he pinned it to your old doll, although I’m not sure where he retrieved that, and well we both know where that ultimately ended up.  He’s spent the past week convinced you did not accept his apology and your avoidance of him confirmed that fact to him.” Sansa’s eyes threatened to fill with tears. By protecting herself from her own heartache, she had inadvertently hurt her friend.  Because he was her friend, first and foremost even if she couldn’t help but want more.

 

He pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to her, the wax seal of the Hand unbroken, her name in Tyrion’s script on the front.  “I’m so sorry Sansa, for this mess, for being less than kind to you this past week. It’s just...he’s my little brother, and this was a pain I couldn’t protect him from so I took it out on you.”   Jaime stood, returning his glass to the sideboard before exiting the room, intuiting that she would want to be alone to read his brother’s words.

 

The door wasn’t even closed before Sansa, with a shaking finger, broke the seal on the letter and her eyes devoured the words in front of her.  A muffled sob escaped her throat at the sincerity of his words and the proof that he really did see her now as an equal. An intense and all consuming desire to speak with him coursed through her.  She could wait for him to return, but would she lose her courage if she did? And if he came back drunk and smelling like another woman’s perfume would she be able to speak with him? Where could he be?  

 

She flung open the door not knowing where she was going and was startled to see Jaime slumped against the wall his hands rubbing his handsome face that looked haggard at the moment.  They both knew why she was there without speaking. “He didn’t go anywhere for dinner, he just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by being here. He said he wanted to look at the sea and think about things.”   

 

Sansa raises her hand to his bicep and squeezes it trying to convey both her gratitude and forgiveness. “Thank you.”

 

She flies out of the tower, grabbing her cloak along the way.  The full moon at the moment making it almost as bright as day despite the storm clouds on the horizon.  She wanders into the gardens not quite knowing where to look. In the distance she spots Pod and Joy stealing a kiss in the shadows, while their chaperone Reyna has eyes only for the red-haired Gold Cloak by her side who appears just as smitten as she.  A painful longing tears through her own soul.

 

She heads deeper into the lesser used parts of the garden heading for the sea and the heavy growth is lit by torch light.  Despite the light she has become somewhat disoriented and is starting to think it foolish to rush out here with no plan and no true knowledge of where to go.  Despairing she thinks of returning to the tower to wait for Tyrion, when a rustling in the underbrush draws her attention. A large raven hops into the path tilting its head as if to study her.  It hops a few time before gliding down the path stopping at a juncture. It looks at her again and then squawks impatiently as if it is waiting for her to follow. Shaking her head at the madness, she follows the bird as it takes her down a path that begins to look familiar.  Eventually it emerges out onto a large balcony that overlooks the sea. A place where once she had mourned her family while Tyrion tried in vain to comfort her.

 

And there he was, his back turned to her.  Deep in thought, his hair tossed wildly in the sea breeze he didn’t notice her presence until the raven swooped to sit on the wall beside him with a rasping squawk before flying over the Blackwater.

 

It was then he turned, and their eyes locked.

  
  
  
  


_Where to begin, where to begin……._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly apologize for not getting to the Sansa/Tyrion interaction yet. I'm terrible I know. We're just rapidly approaching the climax (well as rapidly as my meandering prose goes) and I don't want to rush the next scene by trying to cram it in this chapter. Knowing me, it would easily double this chapter size. Let's face it, they got some talking to do.
> 
> **Sorry**
> 
> Foxy
> 
> P.S. Personally I blame Jaime, he wouldn't shut the fuck up in my brain and made me cry thinking about Myrcella. Hope he's happy now.


	19. Prince of Dragonflies

Tyrion stared blankly over the Blackwater, lost in thought and memories.  First of the recollections of the battle that scarred his face, of wildfire lighting up the sky and the screams of the dying.  Memories that haunted him less and less as time went by and he had managed, mostly, to make peace with them. But now his thoughts turned to a time when he sat here with Sansa and tried to comfort her after her mother and brother had been slaughtered.  What a laugh, as if she would have wanted or accepted comfort from him! But it had been his job to take care of her, to try at the very least. His poor young wife had been all alone in this desolate place. He had known that but rather than force his friendship upon her he had allowed the distance to widen.  Allowing her to isolate herself more because of his pride in the face of her rejection, because of ignorance, because of Shae.

 

Shae.  Even thinking of her hurt.  He should have never brought her to King’s Landing, and certainly never have fallen for her.  He most definitely should have sent her away once his betrothal to Sansa was made. It wasn’t fair to her or Sansa.  But he was selfish and stupid, not beginning to fathom how far Shae’s jealousy would drive her. Jaime had spoken true when he called him a moron when it came to love.  

 

He shook his head burying any thoughts of Shae.  She was not the reason he was currently seeking comfort in solitude.   Sansa, sweet lovely Sansa, who couldn’t bear the sight of him was. The woman he loved who despised him just as much now as when they had been married.  A sudden surge of anger overtook him and he started throwing some heavy loose stones into the water below in a rage. There were a million people to be angry with, most of them dead, but the one who he hated the most was himself.  His actions had trapped him in a personal hell of his own design.  

 

Eventually his arm tired, and he laid his head on his arms breathing hard.  A sudden gust of wind from the bay, the harbinger of the encroaching storm clouds, brought with it a single burning clarity.  He would leave, no he  _ needed  _ to leave this city with it’s bitter memories.  Being Daenerys’s Hand had ceased to bring him the satisfaction and pleasure it once did.  He was tired, bone tired, and he no longer found any joy in playing the game of thrones. At  the Summit’s end he would resign and leave with Jaime, for a time at least, to visit the Rock as his brother had asked.  He would then become the vagabond he had joked about with Sansa, perhaps visiting the vineyards of Dorne and the Arbor or go to Oldtown to study with the Maesters.  In time he hoped that he may find peace, learning to live with the shatters of his broken heart. But he would never, ever go north of the Neck. There was no way to go to the North and not think of Sansa.  She was the North, despite her Tully appearance, and it had never been in more adept hands as it was with its current Wardeness. Seeing her again after this would be too hard and drive him to a despair he would not recover from.  It would kill him enough to hear second hand when she remarried, or Gods to know she carried another man’s child in her womb, let alone witness it. Despite her protests to the contrary, he knew she would marry in time. She had always wanted to recreate the family she grew up with and her drive for that would eventually outweigh her fear of marriage.  Sansa Stark not having a brood of her own children was unfathomable to him and she would have her pick of any man in Westeros when she was ready. A man who would be worthy of her love and would shower her with the adoration and love she deserved. How could he not? Tyrion knew all too well that it was impossible not to love her. 

 

A wave of calm overtook him with his decision and he closed his eyes praying to the Gods for the strength to get him through the next few weeks until he could start this new life.  A life far away from politics, intrigue, and most of all from the pain of loving Sansa Stark. Although he doubted he could truly outrun the last but distance could only help right?   The calm was shattered by a large raven landing next to him with a raucous squawk, before swooping down over the water only to turn and fly towards the Keep. Idolly, he wondered if this was a sign of divine approval, but as he turned and spotted the figure on the edge of the balcony he knew that there either was no Gods or they were laughing at him.

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

Sansa's heart thudded loudly in her ears as her gaze met Tyrion’s.  She swallowed hard, realizing that in her desperation to find him she hadn’t actually sorted out what she wanted to say to him.  Could they even go back to being friends now that she truly knew how she felt about him?  

 

Tyrion seemed to recover first from the surprise of their encounter.  “My Lady.” he said his voice sounding husky. He looked terrible, haggard and exhausted, a week's worth of stubble on his face, yet she still thought him the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever seen. Knowing that her behaviour accounted for part of how poorly he looked flooded her with guilt.

 

Her mouth dry and palms sweaty, Sansa found herself opening and closing her mouth several times like a fish gulping air, unable to form any of her thoughts into words as she gawked at him.  Embarrassed, she could feel the heat on her cheeks rising and hoped the darkness would cover her face.

 

Tyrion just sighed and looked at her sadly, “My Lord is the standard response.  But I guess we’re well beyond that aren’t we.” He gave her a fleeting smile that didn’t reach his sorrowful eyes.  “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” he muttered as he hurried past her to head back into the gardens.

 

Sansa screamed internally and she was finally able to choke out a single word, “Stop.”

 

He turned to look at her, his face full of sad resignation as if expecting her to give him another verbal lashing.  Misery seeped in her bones that this is what their relationship had devolved to. “Stop please.” she said giving him a pleading look.  She sat on the stone ledge, knees quaking as he approached her. 

 

He stopped quite a distance from her, as if he found being near her too painful.  “Is there something you require Lady Stark? What can the Hand do for the North?” His formal words cut her to the quick, and she felt ill at the thought that things might be too far beyond repair.  But Gods know she had to try. Even if she could never have him as she wished, she wanted to be part of his life.

 

Taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself and despite years of lessons in manners found it hard to suppress her nerves.  Clutching the note she held it out to him saying “I got your letter.” she lifted her eyes to his hopefully. Belatedly, she realized how young and stupid she sounded.

 

Tyrion took a step towards her, his posture rigid, his demeanor stiff and reserved. “I assumed as much.  Don’t worry, I got your answer loud and clear the night of the ball and every other day this week.” He said with a bite to his words that Sansa thought was caused by the hurt he felt.  Hurt that she had inadvertently caused for both of them.

 

Sansa was finally able to compose herself before responding wanting to lighten the burden in both of their hearts.  She would fight for his friendship if that was all she could have of him. “You misunderstand Tyrion. I _ just _ now got your letter.”

 

“Now?”  Tyrion said baffled but she swore she saw his guard slip just a bit and he took another step closer to her.

 

“While it was sweet that you wanted to surprise me with my old doll, it might not be best to attach important correspondence to toys with very young children around.  Joanna took the doll thinking it for her and Jaime just now figured it out tonight. He told me where to find you after giving me the letter.” Sansa said gently relieved that she was finally able to compose herself enough to speak with him rationally.   “I believe he had some knowledge of the contents.”

 

Sansa watched Tyrion’s face shift minutely through a series of emotions almost impossible to follow but finally landing on a guarded look, his armour almost as thick as her own.  She would have to keep hers down now if she ever expected him to lower his again around her. However, he was unable to completely disguise the hope in his voice. “I meant every word I said.  I can only hope it’s enough.”

 

Sansa took a deep breath before responding “It’s not.”  She could see the hope that had just surfaced burst like a bubble at her answer.  But she was determined to have the answers she had needed since the night they had quarreled.  “I need to know why.”

 

“Why what?”  Tyrion said defeatedly as he slumped on the stone ledge several feet from her, as if his legs could no longer support the weight of his body.

 

“I thought that the reason you kept the song from me is that you thought me still the weak child you married.  That despite all that I had endured that you didn’t see the woman I had become. There are few people in this world that I think know the true me and I thought you were one of them.  The idea that you didn’t, that you saw me as less than or more fragile than the other women in your life hurt me deeply. But what you wrote….the kind words you said of me contradict that thought.  So I need to know why. Why would you treat me differently from Daenerys or Reyna? Don’t tell me you would have hidden such a thing from them.” 

 

“I told you that night, I had made a vow to protect you the day we wed and I was trying to honor that.”

 

“Oh for Gods sake Tyrion, stop trying to sell me that same tired line.  It was a song, hurtful of course, but not nearly as hurtful as you thinking I couldn’t deal with it.  If we are going to move forward I need the truth.” As she waited for his reply, the irony was not lost on her that she had demanded the truth from him all the while keeping her feelings for him to herself.  There was no point in dwelling on that if their friendship was beyond salvation.

 

* * *

  
  


The truth.  She wanted the truth.  The truth, of course, was that he was in love with her, but that wasn’t what she was seeking with these questions.  And while he couldn’t deny that his unrequited love for her had played a role in his actions, his need to protect her from even the slightest thing stemmed from the horrible guilt he carried in his soul.  For not protecting her when she needed it the most.

 

He leaned forward burying his face in his hands not able to look at her as he confessed.  “It was my fault. What happened to you, Littlefinger, Ramsey...it was all my fault.”

 

“What in the world are you talking about Tyrion Lannister?”  Sansa said angrily. “How could any of that possibly be your fault?   _ I  _ left you.   _ I  _ trusted Littlefinger.  You weren’t even on this side of the Narrow Sea!”

 

“Exactly!”  Tyrion said shouting now.  “You were my wife! I should have gone after you, made sure you were safe.  Instead I drank myself into oblivion lost in my own self-pity and self-loathing...after, after.. _ Shae _ .  After what she said, after what I did to her.  I thought of nobody but myself when you needed someone to watch out for you.  Even if it was your pathetic excuse of a husband.”

 

“Tyrion, there was no way for you to know Littlefinger’s plans for me.” Sansa reasoned softly.  

 

“But I did!”  he yelled angrily.  “Before we were betrothed, Shae warned me, warned me that he was not to be trusted as far as you were concerned by one of Littlefinger’s whores.  She came to me, worried for you, wanting us to protect you and I did  _ nothing _ !  Even after we wed, when your safety was my responsibility I did  _ nothing _ !  I thought I was so clever but I was just a giant chump, framed for murder by an old woman and a scheming snake in the grass.  I knew,  _ I knew,  _  he wasn’t to be trusted but I never saw his trap until it was too late.  Too late for both of us.” He took a deep breath. “I failed you. What kind of man can’t protect his wife?  Oh, that’s right, a half man who thinks he’s smarter than he actually is. I’m surprised at any point in your life you thought I was clever.  I’m a fool, an arrogant, selfish fool and you paid the price. I have never forgiven myself for not getting you out of the capitol after we wed.  I could have convinced my father to take you to the Rock, where you would be safe from my sister, her offspring, and any licideous plans Littlefinger had for you.  We could have ridden out the war in peace and maybe..” 

 

“Maybe what?”

 

_ ‘Maybe in time we could have had a real marriage.’  _ he thought.  But that was just a fantasy, there was no reality in which Sansa would gladly be his wife.  Instead he said “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am ultimately responsible for all that befell you, and I was trying in my own asinine way to make amends by protecting you from what I could.  Even if it was just a bawdy song and I even managed to fuck up that epically.”

 

“Tyrion, I don’t even know what to say.”  Sansa said slowly. “But I think you’re right.”

 

He closed his eyes waiting for the hammer to fall.  For her to finally see the truth to his words, to feel the sting of the verbal assault he deserved or even better a slap to his face.  It was so obvious to him that she should blame him. It was his  _ duty  _ to take care of her, ordained before the Gods themselves and he had failed her in this.  She absolutely should hate him and blame him for what had happened.

 

“You’re right that you are a damned fool.”  she said and surprisingly he felt her slide next to him and take his hand in hers.  “But the rest of it is the biggest load of sheep shift I have ever heard.” she said with a tender smile in her voice.  “Littlefinger duped everyone, he was playing the long game and we were all just catching up. There was no way for you to know and truthfully I’m not sure if even he knew the true depravity of Ramsey Bolton.  You do know his true goal was for me to be by his side after he wormed his way onto the throne. He even told me he loved me before I sentenced him to death.”

 

He was shocked and warmed by her hand in his and took him a moment to recover his voice. “It doesn’t surprise me that his obsession with your mother turned to you after her death.  I’m sure you’ve been told by more than one person that you are the spitting image of her.” he said finally daring to look at her face. He saw nothing but concern there, not the revulsion he feared.  “I’m glad it was you that took him out.”

 

“Not just me.  Bran and Arya too.”

 

Nothing like an omnipotent being to ferret out the truth Tyrion thought.  He was glad that Bran had stayed in Winterfell. Tyrion didn’t need him to spill the truth of his love for her.  Or would the three-eyed raven even interfere in mortal affairs? It was a question all that knew Bran wondered. How much of Bran Stark was actually left?

 

They sat quietly, and Tyrion could feel the tingles traveling up his arm from where Sansa held his hand.  This time she spoke quietly. “I’ve felt remorse for a long time for abandoning you that horrid day. Petyr told me as we sailed for the Vale that he framed you for Joffrey’s death with some help.  I guess he thought that I didn’t care and I did my best to make him think I didn’t. I was just trying to survive and there was little I could do for you even though I knew you to be innocent. Petyr kept abreast of the trial news as he could.  He wanted me to be a widow, the easier to marry me off yet again. You inconvenienced him by living, and he had to go through the trouble of annulling our marriage.”

 

Something about this statement troubled and gnawed at the back of his mind.  He had been too traumatized and grief stricken after his marriage to Tysha to pay much attention to how his father had annulled that marriage.  But he knew only the High Septon or a Council of the Faith could annul a marriage, and he wondered how Littlefinger had maneuvered that. However, the man had manipulated two powerful families to war with each other so getting a widely known sham marriage put aside was probably easy.  But still he should probably make sure she was actually free of him.  

 

“Sansa, you should feel no guilt or regret for leaving.  Your fate would have been sealed along with mine had you stayed.  It was the right thing to do. I should have gone after you or sent somebody after you to keep you safe once I was free.”

 

“It wouldn't have mattered, Tyrion if you had.  Your brother sent Lady Brienne after me to escort me to safety in an attempt to honor their oath to my mother.  And I refused her. What makes you think I wouldn’t have done the same if someone had come on your behalf?”

 

Logically, Tyrion couldn't dispute this statement but emotionally it did little to lesson his guilt.  She was his  _ wife. He should have protected her.   _ He sighed and squeezed her hand and stared at their interlocking fingers.  “I’m just sorry for all that happened to you Sansa. I would do anything to give you back all that the Lannisters, the Boltons, and Littlefinger took from you.” 

 

“I’m sorry too, Tyrion.  I judged you by your name and family, not your actions towards me.  I’m glad that we have come full circle and I have come to know you as a friend and appreciate how good a man you really are.  But we both need to let go of this burden we feel for actions made long ago.”

 

Tyrion let out a choked laugh.  If only she knew of the lurid things he dreamed of doing to her.  She would not think him such a good man and would slap him as he so rightfully deserved.  “I am not a good man nor worthy of the friendship you bestow upon me. But I will try to be if you let me.  This past week has been beyond miserable thinking you had excised me from your life. I missed you.” he said with a deep timber to his voice.

 

“I missed you too.” she admitted quietly.

 

“You did?” he said surprised.  He couldn’t stop the smile that lit up his face. 

 

“Of course I did!” she said sounding slightly miffed at his surprise.  “You’re the one that was so busy being wined and dined by the single ladies of Westeros.  I’m surprised you had time to think of me at all.”

 

_ Oh Sansa if you only knew how much I thought of you.   _ “Do you remember our conversation the other night where I mentioned I only spent so much time working during our marriage to spare you my company?”

 

“Yes.” she said her brow furrowed.  “Oh” she said smally as the deeper meaning set in and he was astonished to see a slight smile touch the corner of her mouth as she looked away from him.

 

“Those dinners were simply a diversion, and an extremely fruitless one at that.”  He had hated every moment spent with women that weren’t Sansa. They weren’t brave like Sansa, witty and smart like Sansa.  And of course none could ever be as beautiful to the core as the woman he loved.

 

Tyrion couldn’t help but admire her elegant profile.  Her ivory skin was translucent in the moonlight and her neck was as long and exquisite as a swans.  Her lovely, lovely neck that he longed to run his fingers and lips up and down, up and down, until he could make her shiver and moan.  The remembrance of her necklace in his pocket jolted him out of his lustful fantasies and in his haste to get at it he dropped her hand.

 

She turned to him startled and possibly even disappointed ( _ wishful thinking dwarf)  _ when he pulled away from her.  “I have something for you.” he said hoping his tone sounded like that of a man in control of his emotions, not a green boy giving a maid a flower even though that’s what he felt like.  He placed the pouch in her hand and was delighted by her face lighting up.

 

“Tyrion...you shouldn’t have got me anything.”

 

“I didn’t, I just had it repaired,” he said seriously.  “I have a feeling this was originally a gift from somebody far, far more important in your life than me.”

 

Her eyebrow arched in question as she untied the string enclosing the jeweler’s pouch before dumping the contents in her hand.  In amazement she reached down and pulled up the chain and there in the dim light sparkling like the sea below hung her silver dragonfly pendant.

 

* * *

  
  


Sansa could scarcely breathe as the visions overwhelmed her.  Memories of a time when she was still innocent to the horrors of the world, before her family was rent apart.  She had seen the necklace at a market in Wintertown and had been immediately drawn to it. Sansa had been deep into her dreams of true love and fairy tales as she began to blossom into womanhood.  While Florian and Jonquil had been a favorite of hers, she knew it to be just a story. However, the story of Jenny of Oldstones and Duncan Targaryen was real. Perhaps embellished with time, but still a prince that loved Jenny, a commoner, so much he forswore the Iron Throne abdicating as Prince of Dragonstone and in turn given the mocking term ‘Prince of Dragonflies’.  Sansa had torn through her purse, hoping she had enough to purchase the piece but did not and was crushed when her father fetched her to return home. She had begged him for it, babbling the whole time about Jenny, Duncan, and true love. But he had ushered her home and she had been devastated to leave without it, weeping inconsolably.

 

That night he came to her room giving her the necklace that he had gone back to get for her.   _ “Someday I hope you find a man that loves you as much as Duncan loved Jenny.  Just know that true love usually takes time and effort to develop as it did with your mother and I. Real love is far less flashy and sensational than the songs my daughter.  It is quiet in it’s simple beauty like the peaceful silence during a snowfall. Love is a place of calm and safety in this world.”  _ Ned said as he fastened the necklace around her neck moving her hair aside.   Her face had fallen at his statement. She had wanted the passionate, fervent love affairs she had read about so badly her whole body yearned for them _.  “But there has not been a bard or writer that has ever been able to fully articulate how wonderful it actually is when you are in love. It will be a truly lucky man that wins your heart and I will do all I can to make sure he is worthy of you before letting you go. _ ”

 

Tears streamed down her face as her father’s voice filled her thoughts.  Tyrion’s mouth tightened in concern and he placed his hand over hers taking the necklace from her gently before she dropped it.

 

“A gift from your father or your mother?” Tyrion asked, studying it.  How did this kind, gentle, man know her so well?

 

“My father.”  she whispered.  “I loved the legend of Jenny of Oldstones and the prince that gave up the throne for her.”

 

“The Prince of Dragonflies.”  he whispered reverently. Tyrion’s hands undid the clasp and he motioned for Sansa to turn her back to him so he could place it around her neck.  She pulled her long auburn hair out of the way granting him access and she couldn’t help the shiver that passed through her as his warm hands lightly touched the back of her neck, burning their way into her flesh.

 

Looking down she admired the necklace that felt so right around her neck. “I always wanted a great love, one for the legends, like Jenny and Prince Duncan.  When my father gave this to me he told me that real love was not like the stories. That it was less showy, but that in the end it was better than any words could make it out to be.”

 

“I know you’ve said you won’t marry again but there is still time for you to find your Duncan.  Don’t let the past actions of despicable men rob you of your future happiness Sansa. The thought of you alone in that big castle breaks my heart.  I want to see it filled with Starks again and I know you dream of it too.”

 

Her tears continued, this time from the words Tyrion spoke.  Of course she dreamed of having a family. It was her dearest wish.  She wanted lots of children, her children, to fill Winterfell’s halls and bring it back to life.  But to do that she would need a husband.

 

“You make it sound so easy Tyrion but I don’t exactly see you throwing yourself into the marriage game.”

 

“Of course I have.” he snorted.  “I seem to remember a confounded list that you were keeping for me.”

 

“Yes, one you begged me to help you with and then have not put the slightest effort into pursuing.”

 

He didn’t respond immediately clearly thinking her words over.  “You’re right. I am no longer interested in the Queen’s marriage gambit.  Loneliness is no reason to marry.”

 

“So you’ve given up on love then Tyrion?”

 

“I never said that Sansa, but what has marriage ever had to do with love?  We both can attest to that.” he said bitterly.

 

“But your first marriage…” 

 

“Was a lie conjured by a lonely young man’s heart compounded by the lust of youth.  The love equivalent of fool’s gold, and I was the fool.” He sighed running his fingers through his curly locks before continuing.  “But I finally think love has given up on me. Your heart can only be broken so many times before it’s too damaged to repair and no poor woman should be inflicted with the likes of me anyway.  But it is not too late for you Sansa. You are too young and too passionate to give up on love so easily. There are thousands of men in Westeros who would love to court you and show you that love is real.  You don’t have to marry for safety or security so find the love you deserve so badly. Promise me you won’t compromise for less than the song that should be sung about you and your Duncan in all the taverns of Westeros.”  he said smiling at her but his eyes almost looked haunted as if what he said pained him.

 

Sansa’s heart shattered in her chest.  She didn’t want any of these hypothetical men and knew with an earth shattering certainty that the only man she would ever love sat in front of her.    A man whose heart was as bruised and battered as her own. A man that circumstance and duty would never allow her to be with. A man she wanted so badly, and he was so close she could feel his warmth.  Desire coursed through her looking at this handsome and utterly sexy man with his course stubble, wild curls, and soulful eyes. Couldn’t she just have a taste, a taste of what it would be like to be with him?  She was so tired of fighting her feelings. She learned forward gathering his shocked face in her hands.  _ “I don’t want a thousand men to love me, I just want you.”  _ she said in a strangled sob as the damn inside her finally broke.  Pressing her lips to his, she was beyond caring because she was dying inside. Gods she needed this, needed this memory, needed his taste to linger on her lips for a lifetime. Tyrion froze for a moment at her initial touch, but reacted swiftly and urgently as if his feelings for her were just as unbearable to suppress any longer as her own had been.  She chose to believe that if only for this fleeting moment that he loved her as she loved him. That maybe they couldn’t have a happily ever after but they could at least have this kiss, this perfect kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hungrily with an intensity and ardour that was better than any of her fantasies. She stroked the burgeoning beard on his face lovingly and he clutched her to him as if afraid she wasn’t real and would disappear any minute.

 

The kiss deepened even more and soon she found that clever tongue delicately tracing her lips and tongue.  The taste of the wine only heightened the sensation and was so perfectly Tyrion she found herself growing weak in his arms and understood why women in the songs swooned in their lover’s arms.  One of his hands caressed the hand on his face before tenderly reaching forward to stroke her cheek and then her neck. A low moan escaped them both as his fingers touched the soft skin of her throat. Sansa was so enraptured by his touch that it was only the crack of thunder from the oncoming storm that made her come back to her senses.  She pulled away from him breathing hard, terrified that in her desire for his touch she had ruined things completely. The sight of his kiss swollen face and soft eyes full of invitation for more almost broke her, but she knew that this was all they could have even if she wanted so much more. And with the way he was looking at her, she wondered if her feelings were indeed reciprocated.  That made what she had to do now even more painful.  

 

She rose to her feet stammering,  “Our circumstances haven’t changed, even if my feelings for you have.” she said looking to flee trying to protect what little of her heart was still her own.

 

“Your feelings for me? Circumstances?  I don’t understand Sansa.” he pleaded sounding as heartbroken as she was.

 

“Because what I said in the crypts still stands if only slightly altered.  It will never work between us because  _ our _ divided loyalties, mine to the North and yours as Daenerys’s Hand, will always be an issue.  I’m sorry Tyrion, I’m so sorry. I’m selfish and just wanted to know for a second what it would be like if things were different.  I only thought I was hurting myself, I never meant to hurt you. Believe me it’s the last thing I want.” she said her voice bordering on hysterical as she ran back into the garden  just as the storm clouds broke overhead drowning her name as he called after her.

 

__

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To say I struggled with this chapter is a lie. I AGONIZED for hours over it which is why it took so damn long for me to update. So please, please, please, let me know your thoughts in the comments. 
> 
> Hugs to you all. I hope it was worth the wait


	20. A wolf needs a pack

The rain came down in sheets and lightning raced across the sky as Tyrion, in a daze, headed back towards the Tower of the Hand.  His cloak did little to protect him from the onslaught of precipitation that appeared to be coming from every angle and in less than a minute he was soaked to the bone.  Not that it mattered, not that anything mattered after what Sansa had just said, after that kiss that would ruin all kisses for eternity. She had _feelings_ for him, she _wanted_ him and then she _ran_.  From him.  Why? Because she thought he would choose his position as Hand over her.  No, that wasn’t right. Being a Stark, she thought that much like her duty to the North there was no choice but to duty first.  But there was a choice for him. One that he had already made in fact, to resign.

 

His jaw clenched in determination as he approached the Tower.  He would find her and make her understand that she would always come first and that his unwavering devotion and loyalty would be hers forever.  That he loved her. That he was hers in any way she would have him. But first he had to find her.

 

In the recessed entry door of the tower Tyrion saw two figures, a man and a woman, having an intimate conversation indicated by the close proximity of their bodies.  As he got closer, he quickly recognized Reyna, but it took him a moment longer to realize the Gold Cloak was Ser Addam. He had of course grown up with Ser Addam, thinking him one of Jaime’s few decent friends, and worked with as commander of the City Watch.   It was just incongruous to see him standing there, looking so intently at Reyna while slowly raising her hand to his lips in what he imagined was a parting gesture. What astounded him further was that Reyna, rather than looking annoyed as she had at gentlemen that usually flirted with her, was smiling broadly and there was a brightness to her eyes he had never seen before.  He faltered in his steps for just a second thinking ‘ _How long was I gone and what exactly had I missed’?_

 

But that was a secondary concern and something he would deal with later.  He needed to find Sansa, _now._ He approached the two clearing his throat and was somewhat pleased to see that while Reyna tried to pull her hand back Ser Addam made no move to relinquish it clearly not caring who saw.  

 

Reyna gasped, seeing him looking like a drowned rat and exclaimed “Oh Tyrion we must get you out of the rain before you catch your death!”  She let go of Ser Addam’s hand to pull him up the stairs and into the entry hall as Addam closed the door behind the three of them as a crack of thunder rolled across the sky.

 

He just shook his head, “I need to find Lady Sansa.  We got….seperated in the gardens. You haven’t seen her have you?”

 

“No.” she said biting her lip.  “Do you think she went to the Holdfast?”

 

“I don’t know, but I need to find her.” he said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

 

“You need to change out of those wet clothes and find a waterproof cloak before you do any such thing Tyrion Lannister.”  Reyna said quite bossily with concern in her voice.

 

“My lady is right.”  Ser Addam said. “I will go check with the King’s guard at the Holdfast and my men to see if they have seen her while you change.”

 

“But you can’t go out there!”  Reyna protested to Ser Addam as thunder shook the tower.  “It's too dangerous!”’

 

“My Lady Loreyna, that is quite literally my job.”  he bowed his smiling face a little tighter now. “The job of the Watch is to protect the people of King’s Landing and I am their Commander.  We do not run from danger, we run into it to help those in need.”

 

“But…” she said as worry creased her face.

 

“Change Lord Hand,  I will be back with news quickly.  We’ll make sure Lady Sansa is safe.”  he wrenched the door open stepping out into the rain.

 

Reyna rushed to the door.  “Ser Addam...be careful. Please.”

 

Tyrion saw him acknowledge her plea with a nod to his head before he disappeared into the storm.

 

When the door closed, she pressed her back to it.  Tyrion just stared at her slack jawed.

“What... was ….that?”

 

“What do you mean?  About Ser Addam being here?  Don’t you remember I was supposed to meet with him about teaching girls self defense?”

 

“Yes, this afternoon you were.  But now it’s past dinner and the man is kissing your hand and gazing at you like a moony suitor.  And to top it off you are acting like a bride sending her groom to war when he’s the damn leader of the Gold Cloaks going to help others in a storm.”  He stepped forward and gave her a huge teasing smile. “By Gods, you _like_ him.”

 

Reyna blushed, lowering her eyes to his gaze before replying in a challenging voice ( _with a heavier Dornish accent that always came out when her emotions were heightened_ )  “What if I do?”

 

“Then I couldn’t be more happy for both of you.  Just a word of advice though, Ser Addam is good at his job and has a passion for it.  If that’s going to be an issue for you, I’d suggest not encouraging anything more between you.”

 

Reyna nodded her head once to let him know she heard him and he turned to head up the stairs, his stockings sloshing in his boots with every step.  He was halfway up the stairs, when he heard quiet footfalls behind him followed by a probing voice. “How did you become _separated_ from Sansa in the gardens?  Did it have something to do with this estrangement between you two that has made you both miserable as well as those around you?  What exactly is going on?”

 

“I hope poor Addam knows what he’s getting into with you.  A combination of Tarth directness with a nasty Dornish bite is not the best for a fragile man’s ego.”  Tyrion said purposely avoiding her question.

 

“I have no need for a fragile man Tyrion Lannister and don’t play the poor little man card with me.  I know you’ve been hurt since your quarrel with Sansa, but I followed her that night and she was just as devastated.”

 

Tyrion was surprised by that news. “If you must know, we reconciled our friendship.”  Tyrion said. 

 

“That is good to hear.” Reyna said with a guarded look on her face waiting for the rest.

 

“Then she kissed me and ran away and now I don’t know what we are.” he said finally reaching the landing and heading for his rooms, his soaked clothes leaving puddles in the hallway.  Reyna remained on the stairs frozen in shock.

 

“What did you just say?” she said running down the hall to catch up grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around.

 

“What part didn’t you catch the kiss or the running away?”  he said defensively, his heart aching and suddenly the wetness on his face wasn’t entirely due to the rain.

 

“Oh Tyrion.” she said and he could hear the lilt of concern and compassion in her voice.  She just swept the curls from his face like she would a small child.  

 

“She told me she wanted _me._ That she has _feelings_ for me. Can you imagine such a woman wanting an imp like myself?   But then she said we couldn’t be together because I was Hand and she is Wardeness of the North and left. _Left.”_ his voice broke hoarsely “before I could tell her I loved her.  Before I could tell her I had already planned to resign because I’m just so lonely and miserable here without her.  I need to find her. I need to make her understand.”

 

“We will.”

 

“We?”

 

“Yes, Let's get you cleaned up and then we will find her and make her listen or I will lock you both in a room until you two idiots in love get over yourselves.” she said, throwing open the doors to his temporary quarters.  She admitted a little surprised shriek before stopping abruptly, causing him to collide into her.

 

Tyrion peered around her to see a very large raven sitting calmly on his desk peering at them with its head cocked to the side.  It held a piece of jewelry in its beak that it dropped as soon as they walked it, squawking at them almost impatiently.

 

“How did it get in here?”  Reyna said edging toward the fireplace as if to grab the poker.  Tyrion stopped her, putting his hand on her arm reassuringly.

 

“I think the bigger question is how did it unlock my desk drawer?”  he said as a smile ghosted his lips recognizing the charm bracelet he had designed for Sansa.  Tyrion looked directly in the milky white eyes of the raven, “Hello Bran.”

 

The raven bobbed its head and flapped its wings excitedly, picking up and dropping the bracelet once more.  “Can you tell me where Sansa has gone?” Tyrion asked and was amazed when the bird threw him a look of what could only be called scorn.  Of course Bran knew where Sansa was. The bird looked at him and pecked repeatedly by the charm of the Stark sigil that represented their father.  It then studied him as Tyrion pondered what the message meant and cawed excitedly when the answer lit up his face.  

 

“Ned.”  he pondered.  Of course, the man that she loved and worshiped above all others.  The father that had been stolen from her in front of her very eyes. He addressed the raven that was Bran “That’s far on foot in this weather.  Is she safe?” Tyrion added worriedly.

 

The bird bobbed its head in an affirmative gesture and Tyrion heaved a sigh of relief.

 

Tyrion turned to Reyna who had only started to get over the shock of witnessing Tyrion’s conversation with a God-like being through a bird.  “I know exactly where she’s going.” he said as he placed the bracelet back in the jeweler’s bag and hurried to change from his wet clothes.

 

* * *

  
  
  


Sansa had no idea where she was going.  She just knew she had to get away in a feeble attempt to protect what was left of her heart.  It was stupid and childish to run she knew it, but she had just been so overwrought to have him so near and yet so far, knowing that he could never be hers.

 

Sansa found herself leaving the gardens as the thunder rolled overheard and the rain came down in torrents.  Like all good Northerners her cloak, even if lighter for the Spring weather, was nicely waterproofed, but it was still difficult to stay completely dry.  The smart thing to do would be to go to the Holdfast but she could not deal with Jon right now knowing how he already felt about her trying to hide her feelings for Tyrion.  The tower was clearly out as much as she would love to talk about what happened with either Brienne or Reyna. Especially Reyna. Brienne was almost as bad as she was when it came to expressing her love for a Lannister.  

 

Thank the Gods Jaime felt no such qualms and had openly and loudly expressed his undying love for her in the Great Hall of Winterfell as the survivors gathered to celebrate the defeat of the Night King.  Her thoughts couldn’t help but turn to Tyrion. That night they hardly spoke but a few words but she kept catching him looking at her and she kept finding her eyes seeking him out across the room. They didn’t need to speak, it had already been said, she had made it clear in the crypt that they would never work.  But that still didn’t stop her mind from wandering to that kiss and the way he had looked at her before they fought the dead, to wondering what it would be like to ask him to join her in her chambers as the survivors left the hall in pairs to warm each other’s beds.

 

She shook her head.  Is that where her feelings for him had begun or was it before that?  In King’s Landing? Or was it somewhere mixed up all in the middle? She had dreamt of Tyrion for years starting on her voyage to the Vale and with each passing year and with each inferior and cruel man she met, she had come to be that much more fond of her Little Lion Husband.  But now it was so much more than fondness, she loved him. 

 

Not fully aware of her surroundings lost in contemplation and the feel of Tyrion’s lips on hers, she found herself at the gates of the Red Keep looking down into the city below.  Far, far in the distance she could see the spires of the rebuilt Sept of Baelor that was set to be completed in the next few weeks. In fact, she and a few others were set to get a private viewing of the memorial for the victims of the wildfire explosion this week.  But more importantly, Jon and Sansa would be able to see the statue of their father that was also being dedicated. Rumor had it a talented Lysene sculptor was able to use some sketchings found in the Keep of Ned during his brief tenure at Hand and brought them to life.

 

Father.  What she would give to hear his deep gentle voice, to feel him hold her one more time!  She wondered what he would have to say about her predicament of having to pick between duty and love.  Without thinking she started heading out the gates, the guards being far more concerned about the weather and people trying to get back in the Keep than those leaving it.  The thought of seeing her father’s face, his true face in something other than memories drove her forward despite the thunder rolling overhead and the torrential rain. She hadn’t gone more than a few blocks in her fugue like state, when she began to feel a tingling sensation that she was being followed.  Panic set in as she realized how foolish she was to be out alone in the city as she recalled the riot in Flea Bottom where she was almost gang raped. She whirled around, her ever present stiletto released, to see a giant of a man in the shadows. “Sandor?” she said weakly, the thoughts of her savior from the riot foremost on her mind.  But it couldn’t be Sandor, he had sailed with Arya for the West after she had devoted herself to his recovery after nearly dying battling his brother and he had thus pledged himself to her in turn. The other men of that size she knew were dead, the aforementioned Gregor and the gentle Hodor. She smiled as she suddenly remembered another, “Francis?”  she called to the shadow.

 

“Lady Sansa.”  he said as he approached her.  “I was returning to the barracks at the Keep when I saw you slip out the gates.  It didn’t feel right to leave you unescorted. The King and Queen not to mention the half-man would have my hide if I let something happen to you.”  His broad face looked at her seriously, “I gather your errand is very important to be out on such a night as this without waiting for a guard.”

 

“Yes, I need to see my father.”  she replied. “At the Great Sept.”

 

He regarded her quizzically, before giving her a simple nod and gestured that she should lead the way.  In the building up above tucked under a ledge, a raven shook its body to disperse the rain drops on its feathers and regarding the humans below gave a self-satisfied squawk.

  
  
  


The main body of the new Sept was complete but there was scaffolding in parts still surrounding it as dozens of artisans paid homage to the Gods in the stone carvings of the building.  Off to one side a two story area was completely covered in canvas, from the look of them old threadbare sails, forming a gigantic tent. They were to remain in place until the great unveiling of the memorial and sculptures later in the week.

 

 Sansa could see the glow of a lantern where two of the frayed sails intersected and headed towards it.  Francis pulled the canvas flap aside for her to enter, startling the young Gold cloak on guard. He reached for his sword in fright at the sight of the giant man, but Francis with lightning fast reflexes for a man of his bulk restrained him gently.  The young man’s eyes went wide at the sight of the colossal man in front of him and even wider as Sansa dropped her hood and he recognized the King’s sister. He dropped to one knee, imploring “Forgive me my Lady.”

 

“My good man there is nothing to forgive. I was in the wrong and should have announced myself.  You were doing your duty. How about my friend here take you to the tavern across the way and I buy you both a pint so you can get out of the damp?  I won’t be long, I just wanted a few moments of solitary reflection with my father’s statue before the public unveiling. I’m sure you understand.” Sansa said sweetly to the flustered young guard. 

 

 She pressed a coin in Francis’s meaty palm and he slapped the guard on the back.  “Let’s give the Lady some privacy. We can still keep watch from across the way.”

 

Sansa gave him a thankful look and resolved to figure out how she could entice him to take Pod’s place as her shield when she returned to Winterfell.

 

* * *

 

A moment later she was alone in the cavernous makeshift tent.  The worn canvas was torn in some places creating a half dozen of so small waterfalls, adding to the cave-like feeling.  But compared to the deluge outside, it was still a refuge from the storm. Grabbing the lantern, she tried to orient herself.  In the center of the memorial, was a replica of the massive statue of Baelor the Blessed for whom the Sept had been named. Along the periphery she found statues of other notable Westerosi figures including Queen Margarey and a plaque listing all those who had perished in the explosion.  Her finger traced the name of Loras Tyrell, remembering the handsome knight she had hoped to wed, only to have her dreams dashed as her betrothal to Tyrion was announced. _The irony of it all,_ she thought miserably.

 

At last she came to the statue she had come looking for, and almost dropped her lantern as the life-size stone carving of her father came into view.  The sculptor was not just talented, but a genius. Unlike the statue in the crypts that had been destroyed during the Long Night, it looked as if Ned Stark were frozen in time. Slowly, she dropped to her knees not caring that the cold stone floor seeped through her damp clothes.  

 

“I miss you father.  I’m so sorry that things turned out this way.  I was never meant to lead the North. It was supposed to be Robb not me.  Even Bran was trained more than I was as the second son! I try everyday, I do, but I feel like I’m some sort of impostor.  I wish I had learned more from you but I have had to learn as I go. I am a slow learner and my teachers often only taught me what I didn't want to be.  Everyday I try to make you proud and serve our people as you would.” Sansa implored to her father’s spirit.

 

“I wonder if you’d recognize me or any of my siblings now.  Could you imagine what we would have become? Would you have wanted our lives to turn out as they had?  Jon became the King of Westeros. Arya saved us all and became the Bringer of the Dawn. Bran evolved into something otherworldly and powerful.  Meanwhile your silly headed eldest daughter whose only goal was to marry a prince and have his babies now sits in your place and rules….alone.”

 

“I should be happy with this.  I’m proud to carry on your legacy, truly I am.  I just can’t help but wonder what things would be like if things were different.  If Bran were Brandon Stark and not the Three-Eyed Raven, if Robb or Rickon had lived, would I be able to fulfill other dreams of mine?”  she traced her finger on the ground in contemplation. “When I became Wardeness of the North I was thrilled to have a purpose, to have people to care for and look after as my own dreams of a family were long gone.  One cruel man after another saw to that and I didn’t think I could ever bear to let another one in my life. How could I ever trust a man again after Ramsey or Petyr?”

 

“But I did find one man over the years who became my friend, who was always kind to me and who I came to trust as much as my family.  And I’ve done something foolish and wonderful all at once by falling in love with this man who I can’t be with. I don’t think you would have picked him for me, nor would I as a girl ever picked him for myself.  But he’s _good._ So good to me.  He’s kind, the kindest man to me outside of our family.  He’s brave, gentle, and strong just as you promised me. And so, so clever, at least most of the time.   He’s the Hand to Jon and Daenerys and is fantastic at his job. As much as I love and admire you, it wasn’t a great position for you.  Political games were not your strength, but he’s born for it. That’s why we can’t be together. He belongs here and I belong in Winterfell.  I knew this but I acted on my feelings anyway and I think given his reaction he may feel the same for me and now I’ve hurt us both.”

 

“So that’s why I came to see you.  I just don’t know what to do.” she said her voice thick with anguish.  “I can’t stay here even if it means I get to stay with the man I love. I belong in the North, I know this but the thought of spending my life alone as the last of the Starks is a burden I don’t think I can bear.  So where does that leave me? Please help me father. Please!” A sob escaped her throat as the tears finally escaped and ran down her face.  

 

Sansa wasn’t sure how long she wept, but she knew she had never felt more low and exhausted.   It had been a fool's errand to come here, to risk life and limb, just to see a statue and she felt just as lost and heartbroken as when she arrived.  Trying to gather up enough energy to move, she was startled when a large black feather fluttered to the ground. She was so surprised by the feather that she didn’t hear the soft scrape of boots on the floor until a small familiar figure stood next to her wiping her tears from her face with his thumb and murmuring her name with tenderness.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Far to the North, a young man sat in a wheeled chair underneath Winterfell’s heart tree.  His eyes clearing from the cloudy white of warging, he focused on the albino wolf whose head rested in his lap.  Stroking Ghost’s head gently he said “The wheels are in motion, the players are in place, and now the rest is up to them.  We leave regardless of the outcome for the land beyond the Wall in two moons time. A wolf needs a pack, and yours awaits. I’ve done all I can to help Sansa find hers as well.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, it's been a month. Longest I've ever taken to update. I got super discouraged at the beginning of this chapter with the GOT fandom after a nasty encounter with some Dany-stans. I'm down if you love Dany and want to bash on D&D and pretend Mad Dany never happened. But there is no justification for mass murder. Sorry. And don't you dare say the mass murder was Tyrion or Sansa's fault!!! 
> 
> Of course after that, the world went to hell and frankly writing fanfic felt less important. Be kind to healthcare workers (like me) and those stocking your food. Please stay at home, wash your hands, and give us hospital workers a chance. Also take time to unplug from the news and social networking and do some selfcare.
> 
> Much love,  
> Foxy


	21. One heart, one flesh, one soul

    Ser Addam had just returned to the Tower as Tyrion was fastening a thick waterproof cloak around his neck.  Sansa had gifted it to him before they had left Winterfell to march on King’s Landing and Tyrion could feel her essence in every stitch.  He had spent his nights on that long cold march bundled in it, smelling her scent and wondering when he would see her again. Looking back he knew he had already been in love with her then but hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it given her declaration in the crypts coupled with her rejection of him on their wedding night. (He hadn’t wanted to consummate his marriage anymore than she had, as he only ever wanted a willing participant in his bed.  But the phrase “What if I never want you to” was like a paper cut on his brain that reminded him that she would never desire him in that way.)

 

“Lord Tyrion, some of my guards think they may have seen a woman slip out of the Keep’s gate into the city but were unsure if it was Lady Sansa.  Also the Kingsguard report that she has not entered the Holdfast. If she hasn’t returned back here yet I will need to report this to the King and Queen and alert my men to start looking for her.”

 

“No need Ser Addam, her brother told me exactly where she is headed.”  Tyrion said being deliberately obtuse in his wording as not to get the King involved yet.  “I just need an escort to the Sept.”

 

Ser Addam looked at Tyrion dubiously, but his eyes skirted Reyna’s who gave a small nod of agreement and he acquiesced. “Very well, let me get some horses.”

 

He returned with an ancient destrier that must have been mostly deaf given how unperturbed it was by the thunder and a very cross looking black pony that Tyrion recognized as Prince Jorah’s.  “These two were the only ones that didn’t look half out of their minds with fright by the storm.” he said by way of apology. 

 

After Ser Addam had helped Tyrion mount the pony (Balerion was his name. Jorah had named him after the Black Dread and the little thing was just as fierce and willful as his namesake.) he turned to find Lady Loreyna already in the destrier’s saddle.  “My lady…” he began to say.

 

“Don’t bother Ser Addam.  She either comes with us now or she will follow us later.”  Tyrion said dismissively, impatient to be on his way to Sansa.

 

Reyna raised her eyebrows in challenge, scooting forward in the saddle.  Ser Addam mounted behind her with a sigh, acting put out but looking thrilled to wrap his arms around the petite woman.  Tyrion rolled his eyes at the scene that was reminiscent of Jaime and Brienne’s courtship at Winterfell. He wished he had been as brave as Jaime back then, laying all his feelings on the line.  ‘ _ I will be brave this time _ ’ he thought as he urged Balerion into a swift trot towards town ‘ _ after all what else do I have to lose.  She already has my heart _ .”  

 

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

The drumming of her heart became louder than the steady beat of the rain on the sails above as Sansa sensed Tyrion beside her.  She found herself burying her head in his shoulder, breathing his familiar scent that had haunted her in his bed, as he folded her into his arms.  The irony wasn’t lost on her that she drew succor from his embrace even though it was her feelings for him that had caused the tears to begin with.  When she had calmed enough, he tipped up her head to look at him and she could see that his eyes looked red as well. Had he been crying as he held her?  He gave her a wavering smile and brushed her hair away from her tear streaked face.

 

“Tyrion…”  she began. “I’m so sorry….” she said, pulling away from him.

 

“Sansa, you’ve had your say in the garden.  Please let me have mine.” he interrupted with a firmness in his voice that he softened by intertwining his fingers with hers before sitting next to her on the ground.

 

Sansa sat quietly, not knowing what to expect.  She wasn’t sure if he was there to tell her that he did not feel as strongly for her as she did for him or if he was there to persuade her that they could be together, even though she knew it impossible.

 

Tyrion didn’t speak for a few minutes, prolonging Sansa’s agony.  He would either stare at their hands, her father’s statue, or the ground.  Finally in a low hesitant voice he asked “What do you think her response was?”

 

“Who?”  Sansa said stumped that this is how this conversation would start.

 

“Jenny.”  He said, clearing his throat  “What did she say to Duncan when he told her he chose her over the Iron throne?”

 

Sansa had never really thought of that side of the story, the real details.  She had just pictured the two star crossed lovers running off together, choosing love above all else.  “I’m not sure.”

 

“You're not?  What would you have done if you were her?” he implored and somehow she knew this answer was important _. _

 

Closing her eyes, she placed herself in Jenny’s shoes.  Imagining the man she loved, giving up his birthright for her, the  _ throne _ for her.  A lump of ice formed in her chest at the certainty of the response “I would have called him a fool.  I would have told him that in time he would come to resent me and that sometimes love just isn’t enough and that duty comes first.”

 

“So why do you think that wasn't the end of their story?”  he asked and she could tell by the glimmer in his eyes he thought he knew the answer.  “Why did she allow him to give it all up for her?”

 

With tears reforming in her eyes, she shook her head.  She was clever enough to know that there was a piece missing to this puzzle, but she didn’t know what it was .  Finally she just whispered “There was more to it.”

 

He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand, and seamed buoyed by her response.  “I think so too.” Closing his eyes, “I can’t help but wonder if Duncan even wanted to be King.  If he felt trapped and miserable in the gilded cage of a first born son, his destiny set for him from birth.    That meeting Jenny and marrying her was the first thing he ever got to choose for himself. If that was the first time he had ever felt happy.”

 

Sansa didn’t respond, ruminating on what Tyrion said.  “So he didn’t just choose Jenny, he chose his own freedom and to write his own future as well.”

 

They sat in silence for a while, “Did you know what I had decided on that balcony, just moments before you sought me out?”   he said, raising their joined hands to his lips. “I had decided to resign as Hand.”

 

“WHAT?”  Sansa said in shock.  “You can’t, they need you.  Nobody could replace you as Hand.”

 

“I can and I will Sansa.  I’m tired of living to work, I’m tired of playing the game.  I also think you overestimate how important any one person truly is in their position, nobody is irreplaceable.  The heart” he sighed painfully, “is another matter entirely. I have been learning that the hard way these last few years.  I tried to fill this void in my heart, first with work and these last few weeks in a futile and lackluster attempt at looking for a wife, as if just any woman would quell this ache in my soul.”  

 

He turned to look at her, locking his green eyes with her blue.  “The night we quarreled, I finally realized what the hole in my heart was Sansa.  It was you. I was in love with you.” He took in a deep breath, gauging her reaction.  “Truth is I’ve been in love with you for years. Every time I got a raven from you, I fell deeper and yet every year that crept by without seeing you I grew more restless and depressed.  I missed you Sansa, not just these last few days but everyday I haven’t been by your side since we were reunited. Maybe even before that.”

 

“So at the Summit's end, I am leaving King’s Landing to start a new chapter in my life.  The question I have for you is whether the North still has room for a lovelorn vagabond to serve at your behest?  Or should I go to the Rock and serve my brother until he grows weary of my presence and places me on the first ship bound for Essos?”

 

Sansa’s heart swelled with joy at Tyrion’s words.   _ He loved her, he was in love with her and had been for years.  _ This time it was her that drug their hands to her mouth before pressing a kiss to each one of his knuckles, making him suck in a surprised and shaky gulp of air.  Smiling broadly, she reached forward to brush the damp curls from his forehead before tracing the scar on his face, feeling him tremble at her touch as his eyes closed in pleasure.

 

“There is only one position I have available in the North, my Lord, and I’m afraid it is all I can offer you at the moment.” she said with a hint of humor.

 

“Whatever it is I’ll take it.  Stableboy, servant, scribe, or squire.  As long as I get to lay my eyes on the Lady of Winterfell everyday.” He said, placing his lips on her inner wrist while gazing longingly at her.

 

“Not only would you have to see her everyday, but every night as well.”  she said as desire shot from her wrist to the rest of her body. “The Lady of Winterfell can be quite demanding, especially of her Lord.”

 

“Lord?”  he swallowed nervously, staring at her father’s face.  “Lord of Winterfell?” he asked in disbelief. “I don’t think I could dishonor your family like that.”

 

“You protected me when my family could not, you and your brother fought for the North against the dead, and you have helped a Dragon-Wolf claim his throne.  You have brought honor back to the Lannister name, and there's only one way you could shame the Starks.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.  “And that is by not making an honest woman out of it’s Lady.”

 

Tyrion repositioned himself so he was down on one knee and looked at her openly with such love and hope, fumbling for something in his pocket.  “Sansa Stark, I love you with all my heart. Will you do me the honor of…” he began before he was interrupted by a loud voice. 

 

“Lady Stark!  Lord Hand!” cried an affable and cheerful voice.  “Right on time, although I don’t know how he does it.  Touched by the Gods he is, but he said you’d be here and that I should be here so here we are!” the older man babbled as he came into view.  Tyrion and Sansa had risen to their feet at the intrusion and were surprised and a bit annoyed to see the High Septon come into view.

 

He doddered closer on his cane, holding his lamp aloft observing the fact that they were still holding hands.  The High Septon was an older man, injured in the wars, but his eyes were sharp and penetrating and belayed the intelligence under all that affability.  The Faith had sent several candidates to the Queen (the King only worshiping the Old Gods) for approval and she had appointed him after a day long interview without even talking to the other candidates.  He studied their faces for a long moment. “Why don’t you two come to my office? I think we have some things to talk about.” It was clear this was a command and not a casual invitation by his tone.

 

Wordlessly, they followed him through the small hidden door tucked behind one of the statues and through the empty back halls of the Sept.  Another small wooden door revealed a set of stairs that ascended not to the Septon’s official office, but to his modest living quarters where he escorted them into his personal office that was covered in layers of scrolls, books, and half filled cups of cold tea.  He moved some things around revealing two chairs gesturing for them to sit before lowering himself to his chair behind a massive desk.  

 

He steepled his hands across his stomach leaning back before addressing Tyrion. “I had thought that you might have visited me a few weeks ago Lord Hand.  I am surprised that you didn’t.”

 

“I have been busy, your holiness, with the Summit, and you have never needed me as an intermediary between yourself and our Queen before.”  Tyrion smiled placidly. “You also full well know I’m not much of a man of the faith.”

 

“Yes busy.  Busy looking for a wife so the rumors say.  A man that has been married twice, now looking for a third.  His first marriage annulled thanks to the gold that flowed from the Rock and the singular determination of the man that controlled it.”  He cocked his head studying Tyrion. “Do you know how truly difficult it is to get an annulment regardless of the circumstances? How much gold and veiled threats it took your father to rush that through?”

 

“Given the circumstances, it was not foremost on my mind.” Tyrion replied flatly.

 

The Septon’s face softened.   “But we’re not here to discuss the status of your first marriage.  The record of that annulment was verified before your marriage to Lady Sansa was allowed to take place.  I had assumed that before marrying again you would ask me to verify that your second marriage had been properly nullified.  Obviously, the records here were destroyed in the inferno but most records, especially those of the noble houses, are duplicated and sent to the Citadel.  This morning I had finally gotten around to writing my inquiry on the matter and was getting ready to hand it to my clerk when I received two scrolls. One from the Citadel,” he gestured to a scroll on his desk “and one from your brother.” he gestured to the second looking pointedly at Sansa.  “Both of which pertain to the matter of your marriage.”

 

Sansa smiled tightly.  A protective elder brother was both a blessing and a curse.  Jon was probably just trying to make sure she wasn’t as legally entangled with Tyrion as she was emotionally.  “Since you asked to meet us here, I’m assuming you're going to tell us what was in the King’s note.”

 

The Septon just chuckled, causing Sansa’s forced smile to falter.  She turned to Tyrion who looked as perplexed as her for a second before burying his face in his hands.  “Wrong brother.” he whispered to Sansa as she remembered the black feather and the raven that had guided her to Tyrion in the garden.

 

Tyrion addressed the Septon,  “Bran Stark sent you the note and told you when and where to find us tonight.”

 

“Indeed Lord Hand.”  he said with a smile.  “He also told me I should fetch you straight away to my office to share the contents of this second scroll.  In his note, he indicated he had written to the Citadel weeks ago with the same inquiry and that I should be receiving the reply at the same time that this raven was received.”  He picked up the scroll and Sansa could see that the seal was still intact. “Shall we see what it says?”

 

“With all due respect, your holiness, I’m not sure how much it matters.”  Sansa said, reaching for Tyrion. “I love this man with all my heart and intend on being his wife before I leave this office.  It is only paperwork if our marriage is valid from years ago or tonight.” She turned to Tyrion, “I love you and only you. It’s always been you even when I wasn’t ready for it yet.”  she said with a tremulous smile. “I could ask for nothing else in a husband. Will you please….”

 

An astonished looking Tyrion interrupted, “Sansa, I believe that is my question.” he said seriously before getting down on one knee to finish what he had started.  He pulled a pouch from his pocket opening it up to reveal a bracelet covered in small charms. He fastened it around her delicate wrist and placed a single kiss in her open palm.   “I had this made for you so you’d know no matter where you go, your family, your pack is always with you. Now I ask if you would have me as your husband, so that we can start a pack of our own.”  She admired each charm and was amazed at how well each one represented her respective family members. 

 

Stunned and overwhelmed by the gift, Sansa didn’t answer immediately as tears threatened again ( _ seriously how much could she cry in one day _ .)  “There appears to be a charm missing my Lord.”  Frowning he pulled her arm in for a closer look and she took the opportunity to bring his face to hers.  “There should be a little lion for my beloved husband.” she said kissing him softly aware of the High Septon’s eyes watching them.

 

“So that’s a yes?”  he said hopefully.

 

“Yes, my love. I will be your wife or continue to be your wife but now in truth, not just in name.”  She turned to the High Septon, “Will you marry us now, your holiness. I meant what I said when I said I intend to be his wife before I leave here today.”

 

“We will need two upstanding and noble witnesses if this is a new marriage for people of your station.  If not, I can just reaffirm your vows. Let’s check to see if your first marriage is valid.” the Septon said with a smile as he cracked the seal on the scroll.

 

“Let’s not.”  Tyrion said placing his hand gently on the Septon’s.  “Plus I know of two such exemplary witnesses that are waiting close by.  Will the Captain of the Gold Cloaks and the Lady of Evenfall Hall serve?”

 

 

* * *

  
  


A quarter of an hour later, Sansa and Tyrion stood facing each other, repeating the vows of the seven in the cramped office with a slightly confused looking Ser Addam and a positively giddy looking Lady Loreyna bearing witness.

 

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…” they said in unison, a ribbon from Sansa’s hair wrapped around their joined hands.

 

“I am hers and she is mine.”  Tyrion said in a husky voice his eyes riveted on his beautiful bride.

 

“I am his and he is mine.”  Sansa said squeezing his hand, this time knowing the words were true down to her soul.

 

“Let it be known that Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul.  In the light of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” the High Septon intoned.

 

As Sansa kissed her husband deeply, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect wedding.  It didn’t matter who was there, or what she wore, or where they were. All that mattered was that she and Tyrion were  _ finally _ in the right time and the right place for their love and lives to flourish together.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Later, as her husband thanked the High Septon and pocketed the yet unread scroll from the Citadel, (for them to read later, it was a moot point now but she knew he was just as curious as she was), Reyna pulled her off for a private conversation.

 

“Strange as it sounds, I think I have a wedding gift for you.” Reyna said with a twinkle in her eye.  She started to pull something out of her pocket.  

 

Sansa placed her hand on Reyna’s.  “First, I just wanted to thank you.  For everything you’ve done for me, done for Tyrion,  some of which you don’t even know about. For being a true friend to us both.”

 

“Don’t know about?” Reyna asked arching an eyebrow.

 

“Let’s just say a little bit of jealousy can go a long way in clarifying feelings, even if it turns out to be unwarranted.  Seeing Tyrion’s friendship with you, made the realization of him remarrying all too real and forced some truths to the service that I wasn’t fully aware of yet.”  she smiled.

 

“I don’t think it was ever going to be an issue of him marrying another.”  Reyna said, handing Sansa a familiar sheaf of papers that she recognized as the list she had dropped at Tyrion’s feet in anger that awful night.  “There was only ever one woman for him.”

 

Sansa held the list of potential brides that had caused her so much heartache only to see that every name had been struck out except for an addition at the bottom that had been written ten times larger and circled vehemently that simply read  _ Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell. _

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRRM created the Deus ex machina that is Bran Stark, I just hijacked his somewhat ambiguous powers to my own purpose. In other words don't think to hard about what Bran can or can't do. Just repeat to yourself this is just fanfic, I should really just relax ***MST3K music plays***
> 
> Goodness, I can't imagine what these two will get up to in the next chapter. Oh wait I can, but you my lovelies will just have to wait. <3
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me as this story approaches the finish line. Love to you all. Stay safe and be well.


	22. Again and again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double my normal chapter length readers! Enjoy!

It was well into the night and the residents of the Red Keep were mostly asleep before the three occupants of the Hand’s Tower returned after the eventful evening.  Quietly they entered and were hanging up their cloaks, when a noise was heard from the stairway and a disheveled and blissfully happy Podrick Payne stumbled into view.  The two ladies tittered and exchanged glances while Tyrion’s face clouded over as he stormed over to his former squire.

 

“If this is what I think it is, I expect you to call on Lord and Lady Lannister tomorrow to ask for my cousin’s hand and the marriage to happen within a fortnight!” Tyrion said menacingly.

 

Podrick’s face turned beet red and he stammered “I was planning too my Lord.  And _that_ didn’t happen….just other things.” he said guiltily.

 

Tyrion’s stare softened and a smile flickered in his eyes,  “Other things I’m sure she was happy to participate in knowing your reputation.”  He paused,  “After you get Jaime and Brienne’s blessing I can take you to a fantastic jeweler to find a wedding ring.”

 

“My Lord, I’d feel better if I had your blessing as well.” Pod stared at the floor before looking hopefully at Tyrion.

 

“Pod, you’ve saved my life and had my back more times than I can say.  I already consider you my family and if Joy will have you I will be happy to make it official.” he clapped the younger man on the back.  “Now if you’ll excuse us, it’s very late and time for me and Lady Sansa to retire to our chambers.”

 

He gestured for Sansa and clasped her hand  “Come wife,  I’d like to show you this, that, and other things too.” he laughed as they disappeared up the stairs, Sansa blushing madly.

 

Pod ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair before turning in shock and confusion to Lady Loreyna “Did he just say wife?” causing her to burst out in laughter.

 

“Yes, Ser Podrick.  Many things happened while you were erstwhile engaged.  Speaking of engagements, why don’t you tell me how you plan to propose to my young friend?” Reyna said with a smile leading Pod into the sitting room.

 

* * *

  
  


Fingers intertwined, Tyrion and Sansa were about to enter his bedroom, _their bedroom now,_ when he heard some snoring coming from his study across the hall where the door stood wide open.  Peeking his head in at the familiar sound, he saw his fully dressed brother, yet again, sprawled across the cot that he had slept on for the last week.  Sansa stood behind him, placing her hand softly on his shoulder before whispering, “He was very worried about you before I sought you out in the gardens.  He loves you very much.”

 

“I know, I would never have made it this far in life without him.”

 

“I hope he isn’t too cross with me for stealing his brother away to Winterfell.”

 

“Just plan on hosting the Lannisters frequently, and be prepared for some lengthy visits to Casterly Rock.”

 

“I”m always thrilled to spend time with Brienne and we could see Podrick and Joy as well.  Plus didn’t you once promise to show me the Lion’s Mouth and the Hall of Heroes?”  Sansa said with a smile.

 

“You remember that?”  he looked up at her fondly.

 

“I remember everything.” she said with a raw emotion in her voice he didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing.  She bent to kiss him,  “Best be getting him back to his wife, but don’t be long husband. I’ll be waiting for you in our room.”

 

He stared in wonder after her before turning to his brother.  He owed this to him but Gods did he want to be in his bedroom with Sansa right now.  As before, Jaime stirred as Tyrion approached the bed and quickly swung his legs over the side so he was sitting on the edge.  Half asleep he slurred “Did she find you?”

 

Tyrion sat next to him “If you’re referring to Sansa, yes she found me in the gardens.”

 

The fog lifting from his brain Jaime said sharply “I’m going to need more details than that.”

 

“Fine, but this is going to half to be quick as it is my wedding night and my bride is awaiting me across the hall.” Jaime’s eyes grew large at this declaration.  “She found me, told me she had feelings for me, and ran away after kissing me because she thought our duties would forever keep us apart.  Quite literally a bird, well Bran Stark in raven form, told me that she had fled to the Sept.  I followed her there in the company of Addam and Reyna, who will be married in six moon turns or less the way they’re acting, where I told her I was resigning as Hand and was desperately in love with her.  Bran sent the High Septon to meet us and we remarried in his study despite the fact that we may actually still be married.”

 

Jaime said nothing, but hung his head between his knees for a minute as if his brain needed the blood to digest all of the words that had just poured out of Tyrion’s mouth.  “So you and Sansa are married now?  Again?”

 

“Yes to both.”

 

“And you're resigning as Hand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He looked at him gravely “And this is what you want, not just what your wife desires?”

 

“Yes brother.  You were right about this job.  It’s time for me to leave and I think I’ve finally found my home at my wife’s side.”

 

Jaime’s face lit up in a huge smile and he engulfed Tyrion in a bear hug. “I’m so happy for you Tyrion!  But do warn your poor wife that she’s going to get an earful from Brienne about missing the wedding!”

 

“Oh that will be nothing compared to telling Jon and Daenerys that we married and I’m leaving my post in one fell swoop.  Which we haven’t done yet by the way.”

 

“Gods, good luck with that.”   Jaime said clapping him on the back with a chortle.

 

“We’ll worry about that in the morning.  For now my wife awaits.”

 

* * *

  
  


Sansa paced nervously in the chamber as she waited for Tyrion.  All her earlier bravado had escaped her and she wasn’t sure what she should be doing.  Should she change into her nightclothes?  Strip down to her small clothes and wait for him in the bed?  Under the covers or boldly on top in brazen invitation?  Hands shaking, she chose to change into a pretty blue nightgown the same shade as her eyes while leaving her new bracelet on.  She sat at the vanity and took her hair out of it’s partial braid and brushed it until it shined like liquid fire.  The act calmed her somewhat, but her heart still pounded rapidly against her rib cage as both fear and desire grappled inside her.

 

Fortunately Tyrion entered the room at that moment causing some of the fear to dissipate.  She smiled broadly at him and he just stared at her dumbstruck leaning against the door.

 

“You are a vision of loveliness, Sansa.  I can’t quite believe you are real and not the Maiden incarnate.”

 

Her smile faltered.  “But I am not a maiden.” she said sadly.

 

Sensing this, Tyrion rushed across the room and kissed her deeply.  “No, you are the woman I love and I only care about the past if it makes you feel badly about yourself now.  I only hope my own sordid past does not cause you any discomfort.  Just know I’ve been faithful to you since we wed.”

 

“I should hope so!” she chuckled.  “You’ve barely been out of my sight.”

 

“No my love, I meant our first wedding.” he said in a low voice, caressing her cheek and combing his fingers through her silky hair.

 

“Truly?” she said shocked.  “Even after you heard I wed again?”

 

“When I fled to Essos, I assumed that you would marry again, but I’d hoped to a man worthy of you that you loved or at least respected in return.  I would have been happy to sign an annulment if that is what you desired, to free yourself from me. Sadly, I heard you married again and that he was a sadistic monster in the same breath.  You had escaped him by then, but I was devastated.  Not for me, but for you.” His voice choked,  “I would have gladly traded my own pathetic life away to ensure that all the befell you never happened.”

 

She leaned forward kissing his forehead before touching her own to his.  “I know Tyrion and that is one of the reasons I fell in love with you.  But why would you stay faithful to me after I left you when you yourself called our marriage a sham?”

 

“I had used meaningless sex as a way to fill the void in my heart left by both my family and the devastating lie that was my first marriage.  Even at the height of my debauchery, I knew it for what it was, but chose to live in denial.  After Shae..”  he looked remorsefully at her shaking his head. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t be speaking of this tonight of all nights.”

 

“Tyrion, my beloved husband twice-over, this is most assuredly the night to speak of such things.” Sansa said sternly.  Her gaze softened, “But can I safely infer that her betrayal and your heartbreak was the reason you no longer sought to return to your former lifestyle?”

 

He nodded grimly. “I actually did visit a brothel once in Essos with every intention of returning to my whoremongering ways and was caught off guard when I realized how abhorrent the idea had become.  I finally recognized it for the pretense it was and like a candle being blown out that part of my life was over.”  He kissed her face softly,  “I know that you are nervous my dear.  I am too.  But I want to show you that the marriage bed is a source of pleasure, and we can both show each other what it is to love with our bodies as well as our hearts and minds.”

 

“I want that too.  You may need to be patient with me but I don’t want to be treated like I am broken.”

 

“You are Sansa Stark of Winterfell, you could never be broken.  All I ask is that you tell me if anything I do ever makes you even close to uncomfortable.”

 

“Don’t you mean Sansa Lannister?” she teased gently, pushing his curls off his forehead.

 

“No, you will forever be a Stark as will any children we have.  And I will always be a Lannister as I would not dare disgrace your father by taking his name.  Lord of Winterfell will be a hard enough title to get used to.” he said kissing her once more gently.  

 

“I think you would have grown on him.”

 

“Yes, like a fungus.”

 

Sansa giggled at that recognizing that he was trying to lighten the mood.  He smiled in triumph “Now my dear wife, it is quite late.  Won’t you join me in the bed?”

 

“Just let me finish.” she said as she returned to her nightly rituals as her husband removed his boots and doublet before using the foot stool to crawl into bed.  She deliberately took a little longer applying the lotion to her hands as they trembled slightly with nerves.  Finally, she blew out all the candles that lit the room, leaving the room in darkness save the ones on the nightstand. She hesitated by the foot of the bed as she approached, nodding at the candles “Do you mind ?”  The soft smile he had been giving her at her approach froze and the briefest flash of pain and sorrow clouded his eyes.  He recovered quickly “Of course, of course.  Abed, when the candles are blown out, I am made no worse than other men.  In the dark, I am the Knight of Flowers.”

 

Her heart dropped as she realized how he interpreted her words.  All hesitation gone, Sansa rushed to him, stopping him as he turned to blow out the candles and throwing herself in his arms.  “Tyrion, no, oh no.  That’s not what I meant by that at all.  I wanted the darkness for you.”

 

Pulling back he searched her face, “Why in the world would I not want to see you Sansa?”

 

 Feeling foolish she stared at her hands in her lap, that he quickly covered with his own.  “My time with Ramsey left permanent marks on my flesh that I don’t think my true husband should have to see.”

 

“Does the scar across my face grieve you so?” he asked as he took her hand in his and traced the faded scar.

 

“Not at all, in fact Lady Margaery thought you were rather good looking, especially with the scar and I agree.”

 

He grinned at that, the light in his eyes that had dimmed earlier coming back.  He reached behind his back pulling off his tunic in a single swift movement.  She couldn’t help her sharp intake of air at the sight of his bare chest sprinkled with golden hair, but he turned his back to her before she could truly savor the view.  His back was covered in large raised scars, most likely from a whip, and she felt tears pricking her eyes.  “Oh Tyrion,” she said horsley as she caressed the welts lightly with her fingers,  “My love, who did this?”  She felt him tremble at her touch and feeling emboldened by it she leaned forward kissing them tenderly.

 

“Slavers.  I have never been good at keeping my tongue.”  he moaned a little as she kept kissing his back, her hands wandering with a mind of their own to roam his chest and pull him closer to her.  Distracted by her kisses he finally panted out “It appears my scars don’t bother you in the slightest wife.  I hope you know that...Gods” he panted as her tongue flicked over his back tracing the scars, “that yours mean nothing to me.  I want you, all of you, every part including your scars.” 

 

“Scars just mean you are stronger than whatever tried to hurt you.”  Sansa said, repeating the words the whore had told her, and finally taking them to heart.

 

Turning him around, she kissed him passionately and surprised them both by taking the lead and pushing him down gently on the bed.  Still fully clothed, she crawled on top of him kissing and stroking his toned chest, arms and abdomen.  He made little moans of pleasure, sighing and saying her name, his hands buried in her hair.  She felt powerful and free as she felt his desire hard against her inner thigh, as her own burned through her veins like wildfire.  Reaching down she pressed her hand against his length, causing Tyrion to shudder and groan.  Her nimble fingers went to work on the tie of his breeches when suddenly Tyrion seized her wrists.

 

* * *

  
  


Tyrion wasn’t sure who this wanton goddess in his bed was but he planned to build an altar to her and worship at her feet for eternity.  Her lips trailing all over his chest and stomach and her hair caressing everything else had him hard enough he nearly came when she pressed her hand against his cock.  He wanted nothing more than to tear that nightgown off of her and bury himself deep inside her warm cunt.  No that wasn’t entirely correct, he still wanted to rip the nightgown off of her, but he planned to lavish those gorgeous tits he still hadn’t seen properly with his tongue before feasting on her cunt while she writhed and screamed.  Gods, how long had it been since he tasted a woman’s pleasure, felt thighs tremble around his ears and arousal covering his face!

 

But currently Sansa seemed more interested in her own exploration of his body. He suspected that this was a way of asserting control in a situation that carried some fear in it for her, but he loved her too much to continue without checking on her.  “Are you sure Sansa?” he said tenderly, his hand caressing her face once again as he released her wrists.

 

“I’d like to see you.  I’d like to see my husband.” she said as she pulled down his breeches and small clothes.  Fully unclothed now, he lay vulnerable underneath her as her eyes roamed over his body.   Insecurity tore at him, fearing her disappointment in his naked form but was instead rewarded as her eyes wided suddenly at his fully erect manhood.  That at least was an area the Gods had not short changed him in as he was slightly larger than the average customer according to his former paid companions.  She bit her lip nervously, and turned to look at Tyrion, her eyes full of hesitation.  “Can I...I mean should I…?” she stuttered as her hands that seemed more sure of herself than her words drifted down the fine line of hair from his navel to his cock.  The love in his eyes and reassuring smile must have strengthened her resolve as she finally touched him delicately and he let out a low moan.  Startled, she pulled away before he caught her hand. “Did I hurt you?” she asked innocently.

 

“Quite the contrary my lady wife.” he said gazing at her reverently.  Only the one touch from her and he was on the verge of climaxing.  “I could show you if you like.” he said, placing his hands on top of hers.  She nodded her consent enthusiastically, and he wrapped her delicate hand, still slick from the lotion around his cock.  He moved her hand slowly at first for her to get used to the motion but quickly pumped her hand faster as his hips jerked upward.  Breathing heavily, he rutted into her hand groaning her name repeatedly.  His climax imminent, he roared “Sansa, I’m going to….Gods...fuck...oh Sansa!”  Tyrion was blinded by a white light as his eyes rolled back and his back arched as the orgasm rolled over him.  He shuddered as his cock pulsed and his balls contracted causing thick streams of his seed to cover their joined hands.

 

He came back to himself, feeling embarrassed for acting like a green boy in the bed of his young nubile wife.  He scrambled off the bed to retrieve a wet cloth he used to carefully clean her hand before cleaning himself.  He started blubbering out an apology while earnestly gazing into her eyes afraid that he had pushed her too far too fast.  What he received in return was a sexy smile and a grin.  She giggled, “It appears I’m not such a slow learner after all.”

 

Love for her filled his heart and a weight on his chest lifted at her cheeky comment.  Gods she was beautiful and heavens above even playful in bed.  He laughed before crawling on top of her kissing her passionately.  “No, my love.  I may even say you’re a natural at this.”

 

“Good.  Because I want to please you.” she said with a touch of seriousness in her voice.

 

“As I want to please you.” he said, dragging his hand down between her breasts before thumbing a peaked nipple eliciting a moan from her. “Again.” he lowered his head to her other breast kissing it through the thin fabric.  “And again” he said, rolling her nipple firmly with his fingers. “And again.” he said, taking the peak into his mouth while she writhed under him and raked her nails down his back.

 

He moved his lips back to hers sliding his tongue deep in her mouth.  She tasted so sweet, like lemons, like springtime, like the rain.  He desperately needed to know what all of her tasted like.  Pulling away slowly from her swollen lips, he moved his fingers to toy with the ties that secured her nightgown.  “This gown is lovely and such a fine shade with your eyes and hair, but I’m afraid if you don’t remove it soon I make no promises that it will stay in one piece.   Because as lovely as it is, it conceals the most beautiful thing in the world to me.  My wife who I love and desire above all things.”

 

“I do like this gown.” she said in a teasing voice.  “But I do have a few others I may allow you to destroy.”

 

“Sansa…” he said warningly as desire laced his voice and his cock started to stiffen again.

 

“But another night.”  she said with a promise in her voice.  Rising to her knees she pulled the ties holding the gown closed herself, but let Tyrion push the clothing from her body.  Tyrion had seen many beautiful women in his life but none dared to compare to Sansa.  Her skin was exquisite, like ivory that glowed in the candlelight with the barest hint of freckles across the tops of her breasts that were full and lush with rosy pink tips.  Her body was shaped like a lovely Dornish fiddle complete with the long neck he had admired for years.  The smallest scrap of silk covered her slit with the ties hanging low on her curvaceous hips.  But the thing that entranced him the most were her pale arms and legs that went on for miles, so unlike his own stunted limbs.  Tyrion could see evidence of some scars, most fading like the one on his face and a few angry red welts on her creamy thighs but they did nothing do detract from her beauty and in fact enhanced it to him.  Their scars told the story of how they had both survived and thrived despite all that had happened to them both.  

 

He stared at her in slack jawed wonder, his eyes tearing up slightly.  “You are too beautiful for the likes of me Sansa.  I wish I was that dashing knight for you.”

 

She moved towards him kissing him lightly as his arms moved to her waist.  “You are better, so much better than what I dreamt as a girl.  I’m so lucky to be here, married to the man who loves me, who knows my soul.  A man who awakened such a desire in me that I spent countless hours in this bed and at that door tempted to crawl in his bed because I wanted him so much.”

 

“You wanted me?” he said, almost incredulous, even knowing she loved him.  The fact that she desired him was almost impossible to think.

 

“Gods yes!” she said laying down and pulling him on top of her.  Feeling her soft skin against his own was the closest he ever felt to heaven.  Knowing she had been wanting him for days now only fueled his lust and he finally unleashed it, returning his attentions to her breasts that he lavished with his mouth and hands.  She wrapped her legs around him, holding him tight to her as the silk of her small clothes brushed against his rock hard cock.  “I want you, please Tyrion. I need you.”

 

Slipping down her body he slowly teased her through the edges of her small clothes until she mewled in frustration and he chuckled as he removed them and spread her legs wide admiring the ginger curls wet with desire. “It appears you need to be the patient one my love, not me.”  Tyrion whispered tracing her folds with a finger, teasing her entrance, causing her to moan and shift her hips towards him.   He added a second finger, still teasing and getting his fingers wet.  She moaned again and he plunged both fingers in her cunt simultaneously using his thumb to rub her clit.  The moan turned into a stifled scream of his name and she bucked hard against him as he continued to work in and out of her while she trembled and clenched around his fingers.  

 

As desperate as his desire was to fuck her properly, his desire to taste her fully had not been quenched.  He removed his fingers and she opened her eyes, looking shocked as he lowered his mouth and licked her.  Gods, it was better than he remembered, so salty and sweet.  He licked her again concentrating on her clit this time and she moaned low and long.  Encouraged by her response to him and no longer able to rein in his own lust, he lowered himself completely and began feasting himself upon her cunt and let out his own moan of desire when she raked her hand through his curls while thrusting against his face.  He wrapped his arms around her thighs pulling her closer while they trembled around his ears.  Time and time he brought her close to the edge with his tongue only to back off right before she peaked, wanting her to cum so hard she would  forget her own name.   When her moans turned into small gasps for air, he sensed she was past the point of no return and  concentrated all his attention to the nub at the top of her swollen pussy.  As her orgasm overtook her, she cried out his name, clenching her thighs tightly around his head, her back bowing off the bed as she came undone riding his face.

 

He pulled back slowly kissing her inner thighs and savoring the view of his sated wife.  Part of him wanted to leave her like this, boneless and beautiful in an orgasmic haze, but he also knew that in her utterly relaxed state now would be the best time to join with her completely.  He dragged his cock through her slick folds, before positioning himself at her entrance. “Sansa” he said in a strangled voice conveying all his love and lust wrapped around that one single word. 

 

 “Love me” was all she murmured in return before he pushed himself into her tight, slick channel doing his best to be gentle.  He moved back and thrust again as she took more of his length each time until he had filled her completely, his eyes never leaving hers.  Once fully engulfed, he couldn’t help throwing his head back and moaning while grasping her hips tightly.  Gently at first he thrusted, painfully aware at how she stretched and fluttered around him accommodating his girth.  To his utter relief and joy, she started rocking her hips to the slow pace he set and started moving faster encouraging him to move more quickly.  As he slid into her time and time again, his thrusts grew more powerful and were met with cries of pleasures from Sansa’s lips.  Determined to have her peak again while deep inside her, he shifted slightly to rub her clit with his fingers.  Doing so gave him the sight of his cock moving between her swollen lips, and he couldn’t help the inhuman growl that escaped him at the sight of him finally claiming his wife, his love.  That spurred him to move even faster and harder inside of her as he massaged her clit.  She began moving wildly against him, her hands clenching his biceps as her moans became louder.   Her pussy spasmed around him as she came with a sob of his name, causing him to roar as his own climax crashed over him and he spilled deep inside her.

 

Spent, he collapsed into his wife’s welcoming arms, his cock still cradled in her warmth.  Sansa wrapped her arms and legs around him in a tight embrace as he lay his head on her chest.  As he listened to her heartbeat, Tyrion had never been more at peace, more content in that moment and he realized at long, long last he was finally home.

 

 

* * *

  
  


Exhausted, they curled together in the bed talking and cuddling.  Sansa was still dazed from discovering the true pleasures of the marriage bed and considered herself very fortunate to be married to a man who was so skilled and eager to please his wife.  With her head on his chest, she admired his strong jaw and stubble and couldn’t help but caress it.  He truly was devastatingly handsome and she felt a stir of desire in her womanhood.  Her mind couldn’t help but wonder if they would have ever arrived in this state of bliss if their lives hadn’t diverged so long ago.  They had to lose each other to find each other.

 

Content as she was in the warmth of his embrace and the afterglow of sexual satisfaction, she jolted up suddenly scurrying from the bed.

 

“Sansa , what is it?”  Tyrion said his honeyed voice groggy but quickly becoming alarmed.

 

“The scroll!  We never read the scroll!”  Sansa said grabbing his doublet and removing the scroll addressed to the High Septon.  The candles being long burned out, she moved to the light cast by the fireplace and broke the seal.  Reading the contents quickly, she gasped while covering her mouth, her eyes shining with tears.

 

“Come back to bed my love.  It doesn’t matter what it says Sansa.  We are wed now and only the Stranger will ever part us.”  he said concerned at her reaction.

 

“But it does matter to me Tyrion.” she said.

 

“Why?  It doesn’t change how we feel.”

 

“But now I know,” she said with a sob of relief and joy  “that I was never, ever truly the wife of a madman, because according to the laws of Gods and men, I’ve always been the wife of Tyrion Lannister.”

 

“I love you Sansa Stark.” he said gruffly.  “My heart belongs to none but you.”

 

“And I love you, Tyrion.”

 

Wiping her happy tears away, she practically danced back to the bed, to rejoin her husband who stared at her in wonder.

 

“What?” she said crawling into bed.

 

Her eyes widened in surprise as he pulled her on top of him straddling his hips and she could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her.

 

“My gorgeous wife of eight years just pranced naked around our chambers and told me she loves me.  What did you expect?” he said with a kiss as he positioned himself under her and guided his manhood into her slick opening.

 

“Again?” she said breathlessly as desire pooled in her belly, and she sank down on his cock with a little moan.

 

“And again and again and again.” he said as he grabbed her hips firmly, showing her how best to ride him to both of their joy and pleasure. 

  
  
  
  
  


No sleep would be had for hours for the newlyweds, who were not so _newly_ wed it turned out to be after all.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
The next afternoon Queen Daenerys basked in the sunshine on her balcony waiting for Lady Jenna to join her on the enormous daybed as had become their custom in their joint confinement.  She concentrated on the small baby blanket she was knitting for the ungrateful babes that were currently kicking her soundly in the ribs.  With Jorah, every little flutter had been a miracle, a blessing of the life growing inside.  These two felt like they were having a drunken brawl most of the day.  Although she did feel bad for the poor things, they truly had no room on her petite frame.  

 

The blanket she was knitting was lilac and she had yellow yarn for a second one.  She had dreamt of twin girls with her violet eyes one with wild dark curly hair like her father and brother, the other silver like her own.   Sighing at a mistake, she unraveled the last row of her stitches.  It was a simple pattern using the most basic stitch mastered by most girls at a young age, but she hadn’t had a conventional childhood had she?  A lifetime ago, a kindly nursemaid had taught her this much at least and she was bound and determined to make something with her own two hands for her girls.  She and Jon had been too busy working non-stop to rebuild Westeros during her pregnancy with Jorah to afford her such a luxury, so she took this bedrest as a sign.

 

“How lovely!”  Jenna exclaimed as her husband deposited her gingerly on the bed facing her.  “You’re really making progress.”  Jenna was being too kind in her praise, but Daenerys was pleased nevertheless.

 

“Thank you Lady Jenna.”  She nodded her head at Ser Bronn.  “Ser Bronn, I heard your negotiations with the Redwynes were successful for both parties.”

 

He grunted an affirmation before giving her a cheeky grin.  “And I heard you’re down a Hand.”

 

His insolent manner reminded her of Daario, which she almost enjoyed in small doses, but she scowled at him for appearances sake.  “Yes, it appears that there will be many changes to the small council soon.”  She flicked her eyes to Lady Jenna who gave a tiny nod, which Dany took as agreement to their prior discussion. “Ser Davos will be coming back as our Hand officially and Varys is leaving for a prolonged tour of the free cities to strengthen his contacts abroad.  I have also been negligent in naming a new Master of War since Greyworm departed with Missandei to the Summer Isles.”

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t named Jaime fook--err Lord Lannister to that title.”

 

“Gods no! Ser Jaime and I get along better with a continent between us, besides my husband and I know how to command an army.  What I’m looking for is a leader who has been down in the trenches, who approaches problems differently from a classically trained commander.”  She placed her knitting down looking at Bronn pointedly “A man that once he was told a fortress was impregnable replied ‘Give me ten good men and I’ll impregnate the bitch’ and I have no doubt he could.’”  Jenna tittered, while Bronn’s everpresent cockiness dissipated and he looked at his wife helplessly.  Queen Daenerys continued “Provided you accept, your wife has agreed to be my Handmaiden as I’ve become quite fond of her these last weeks.  It also places her in a position to gain more of her own contacts and fill in for Varys in his absence.”

 

“Do I have a choice in the matter or have you two already made it up for me?” he said, mostly addressing his wife.

 

“Admit it, my dear.  You’ve already gotten bored with country life.  I see you itching for work that isn’t settling disputes about land and sheep.” Jenna said rubbing her swollen belly.

 

“Aye. I can’t argue with that.  I’d still like to think about it.” he said gruffly.

 

“Of course.”  Daenerys smiled all the while already knowing what his answer would be but also knowing the former sellsword wanted to save some face.  She’d ask Jon to talk with him too. He had agreed with her that Bronn would be a good, if unconventional, pick for the position. 

 

After Bronn left, Jenna started working at her embroidery while Daenerys struggled with her simple blanket.  She gave Daenerys a coy little smile  “I’m quite happy for Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa when I heard about their remarriage.”

 

Daenerys put down her knitting and smiled.  “It turns out for once I have a piece of gossip that you don’t know yet.  Turns out they’ve actually been married this whole time.  An annulment was never filed.”

 

“No, I didn’t hear that.”  she hummed for a minute or two while she worked on her embroidery before continuing.  “However, I did hear some other gossip about the affair.” she said knowingly.

 

“Anything you‘d care to share?” Daenerys said with a slight smile.

 

“I heard that the Queen took the news of her Hand's resignation very well.”

 

“I’m not an unreasonable woman, I hardly think this is gossip Lady Jenna.  I’m pleased for my goodsister that she has finally given love a chance and thrilled that one of my best friends has finally found the love he deserves.  If that means he leaves my service, I’m willing to make that sacrifice for their happiness.”

 

“You misunderstand my Grace.  It appears you took it remarkably well, almost as if you were expecting it.” she said with a mischievous look.

 

“Are you implying something Lady Jenna?” Daenerys replied playfully.

 

“Like what?  That you convinced Lady Sansa to be in charge of finding Lord Tyrion a new bride in the hopes that they would finally be thrown together enough to admit their long buried feelings for each other?”  she scoffed.  “What a fanciful idea!”

 

“Lady Jenna, when you are in court, always remember one thing.” Daenerys said as a secretive small smile spread across her face.

 

“Yes your Grace.” Jenna said demurly.

 

“My former Hand is not the only one around here that is clever.” she said with a conspiratorial grin and a wink.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments pretty please? Writing smut is difficult lol.
> 
> Just an epilogue chapter to go.....


End file.
